


One Man in a Mile of Nowhere

by Memoirs_of_a_Lunatic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Conflict, Daddy Issues, M/M, Mommy Issues, Slow Build, Submarines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memoirs_of_a_Lunatic/pseuds/Memoirs_of_a_Lunatic
Summary: “I don’t need to be here for this.”
Hux found himself in a rare position of speechlessness. The ninth recruit, right at the end of the line, was staring at him defiantly. Kylo Ren, Hux knew immediately. The thickness of the American accent, the slight curl on the end of each word, stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Speak out of term like that again, sailor, and I can arrange for you to not come aboard at all.” Hux replied curtly.
-
Commander Armitage Hux of HMS Vindicate finds himself unwillingly hosting a stranger aboard his vessel for three months of deployment. Under orders from Rear Admiral Snoke, he doesn't question the stowaway's purposes upon the submarine. But as the weeks roll on, one fact becomes utterly clear;
There is something off about Kylo Ren.





	1. Disclaimer and Terminology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to do a bit of an information dump here
> 
> Ultimately this portion isn’t required reading, but it does offer a little bit of insight into why I decided to write this, and the legitimacy of the setting/information within the story itself.
> 
> Feel free to just ignore this and skip straight to chapter one. If you become bamboozled by any terminology, the likelihood is that it's explained here. If you still have questions, drop me a comment, and I’ll do my best.

So, this was inspired by that time where I almost joined the Royal Navy, but PMU’d at the medicals (listed as Permanently Medically Unfit for service, whoops haha). Nevertheless, I ended up with a little bit of a view into ‘The Silent Service’, and I thought it would be nice to find closure in being rejected by the RN through writing fanfiction. As I’m sure most people do.

Now, while I did learn a lot about the day-to-days of life on a Submarine and the like, I should note that not all of this information should be taken literally. For some things I’ve had to use my imagination, while for other parts I’ve worked off of what I already know, what I’ve gathered from the internet, and what my granddad (who helped build sections of Trafalgar) has explained to me. It’s not, by any stretch of the imagination, comprehensive knowledge, but I like to think that I’ve got the basics down.

 

**TERMINOLOGY**

 

**Junior Rating** – This is effectively a new recruit. Once you’ve passed through training, you’ll become a Rating.

**Senior Rating** – Higher up the rankings. Junior and Senior Ratings generally have separate spaces aboard a submarine. Separate toilets too.

**Rear Admiral** – Let’s get all the jokes out of the way now folks. Rear Admiral is the highest ranking you can be promoted to in the Submarine service alone. Above this are ranks that oversee the Royal Navy as a whole. I’m sure the Royal Navy’s Rear Admiral actually does a lot of active work – I think he’s still the Captain of a boat – but for the purpose of this fic, and being Snoke, he just passes down orders from London.

**Boat** – The official term for a submarine. Sound kind of silly to name a huge monster of a thing a ‘boat’, but that’s the Navy for you.

**Dolphin badge** – New Naval recruits will work towards earning this, it’s the mark of a qualified Submariner. It is actually a neat little badge in the shape of a dolphin, not just a certificate or something. Google it, seriously. It’s sweet. A common initiation ceremony for new Submariners is to hold the dolphin badge between your teeth and down some whiskey at the same time, hopefully without swallowing the dolphin.

**Hot-bunking** – The idea of sharing your bunk with someone on the other shift. While they work their twelve hours, you sleep. When you get up to work your twelve, they replace your bedding with theirs and sleep in your bed. This practice is beginning to disappear, as newer submarines are built with much more space than the older ones.

**SSNs** – Fleet submarines (aka Attack submarines)

**SSBNs** – Ballistic missile submarines (aka Trident)

**Trafalgar Class** – Attack submarines, these take part in active warfare. I was given a presentation by two Submariners, who said that attack submarines could launch a missile from miles away with such precision that they could aim it through a window and not chip the surrounding bricks. It was a heck of a powerpoint presentation. The seven submarines of the Trafalgar group were commissioned in the 80s-90s, and three (Trafalgar, Turbulent, and Tireless) have already been taken out of active service, while the younger four (Torbay, Trenchant, Talent, and Triumph) are still kicking about for now.

**Astute Class** – The newer model of attack submarines. As Trafalgar is slowly being decommissioned, the Astute Class is slowly being built. There are currently three (Astute, Ambush, and Artful), with four (Audacious, Anson, Agamemnon, and Ajax) more to come. The Astute Class are the first RN submarines built with women in mind, and have an emergency oxygen supply system to be used if it’s been discovered that a Sailor is pregnant (so that the lack of oxygen doesn’t have negative effects on the growing baby).

**Vanguard Class** – These boats make up Trident, the British nuclear deterrent that’s constantly coming under a lot of pressure to be decommissioned. In real life there are four (Vanguard, Victorious, Vigilant and Vengeance), but for the purposes of this story I’ve made up a fifth one.

**Trident** – The name given to the Vanguard-Class as a whole. It’s what you’ll hear about in the British media whenever they’re talking about nuclear weaponry.

**Epaulette** – Generally a piece of cloth attached to the shoulder, showing your ranking.

**Commanding Officer** – Basically, the guy above you. If you’re at the bottom of the stack, everyone’s your CO.

**Faslane** – A Naval port in Scotland. This is the ‘home’ of the Vanguard-Class submarines.

**HMS** – ‘Her Majesty’s Ship’.

**HMS Raleigh** – The current recruit-training center for the Royal Navy. Despite the name, it is not actually a ship.

**HMS Dolphin** – The previous recruit-training center for Submariners, before it merged with Raleigh. It is still used as a specialised active training area for Submariners.

**The Perisher** – The 24 week long test taken by Submariner Officers to become Executive Officers. The title is no joke, there’s only a 70% rate of success, and if you fail the process you are no longer allowed to serve in the Submarine service again (although you can transfer to the Surface Fleet of the Navy). It’s strict for a reason; Executive Officers have the responsibility of steering the boat, and you can imagine how badly that would go if such a person were unqualified. It’s not all bad, though, because they give you a bottle of whiskey if you fail the test.

**Salary** – Okay you already know what this is, but honestly I just need to impress upon you how much Submariners get paid. I applied for the role of a Chef, and I was looking at an annual rate of £25k, plus added bonuses when at sea, and a lump sum of £5k when you join. Which is insane. And this is just for a Chef, one of the lower ranking jobs. Honestly I’m not trying to subliminally get you to join the Navy. I’m really not.

 

I’ll extend this page when/if necessary.


	2. Prologue

 

Faslane was cold. The changing of seasons was not something that he experienced often, and he’d quite forgotten what Scotland looked like in its late-Autumn red and gold. Hux found that he quite hated it. He was certain that his pale face had turned a raw pink in the bitter Northern air, and that it clashed horribly with the surrounding trees.

His mother had grimaced at him on the doorstep. She’d never learned how to smile genuinely. She’d said goodbye, as most mothers should, and had expressed a desire to see him again in a few months. Hux had responded in a likewise fashion whilst turning on his heel, and the door had closed behind him with a snap.

It was certainly a positive of his job, living aboard a Submarine for months at a time. For one thing, they were never cold there. For another, they were only allowed one email home per week. Hux rarely used his.

And now he was free, walking away from that artificial-blue door of his childhood, with a newness in his step and a weight lifted from his shoulders. His happiness mixed with the utter relief that he had once more survived the duty of his semi-annual visit home.

The port of Clyde was visible from the end of his mother’s front garden, and he took a moment to lean on the wooden gate, which creaked threateningly. The water rippled delicately across the bay, the mountains across from him tipped in the snow that hadn’t quite reached the lower ground of Faslane yet. In a month, when he would be mercifully out at sea, the entire town would be swamped with thick snow, he was sure. It was this thought that got him moving, as though standing still was directly tempting the weather to let loose on him. He opened the gate enough to allow himself to slip through, and then closed it gently behind him – not allowing the lock to scrape.

He could’ve asked his mother to perhaps give him a lift down to the dock in her car, but he was entirely aware that he wouldn’t see many trees (or indeed grass, or leaves or any of it) until the next time they docked the boat. In any case, the cold grey sky was far more preferable than the cold silence of a car journey with his mother.

 

It was warmer at the sea level of Her Majesty’s Naval Base Clyde, and Hux was welcomed at the entrance by the familiar sound of shouted orders, and the nondescript clanks of machinery and loading vehicles. He'd been here just yesterday, preparations for today's deployment taking up much of his off-duty time.

“Commander Hux,” acknowledged the woman on duty, saluting. She stepped aside and allowed him past the grey gates and onto the main courtyard. Hux nodded his thanks and made his way toward one of the smaller general office buildings. He had a room there with some belongings inside – those that were not already aboard HMS Vindicate. He would have to wear full uniform to board the boat, and although the scheduled departing time was a few hours away, his father had always imparted on him the importance of being punctual.

He could see the boat a few hundred yards away at the end of the dock, looking for all things like a great black sea serpent. It's surface slick with last night's rain, glinting in the dim light that filtered through the clouds. He had stopped to observe it rocking slightly in the water of the Loch, and now turned his head away to continue toward the building.

After visiting his quarters to organise the remainder of his belongings, and iron his uniform several times before putting it on, he left to once more observe the boat. General checks such as these had very little meaning beyond tradition; any issues with the vessel would have been discovered and fixed weeks ago. He straightened his hat, stepping out onto the courtyard and making toward the Submarine dock. Two men stood guard beside the boarding platform, and saluted at his approach.

“Commander Hux, Rear Admiral Snoke requires you in the board room.” Said the boy on the left, eyes rigidly forwards as was protocol, but hat at an almost imperceptible angle.

Hux took no pleasure in appearing surprised, but this was news of which he couldn’t have pretended to anticipate.

“Rear Admiral Snoke?”

“Yes sir, he came up from London this morning and requested to see you. That’s all we’ve been told, Sir.”

“Very well. Thank you, men,” Hux replied, almost turning before pointing towards the boy on the left, “Fix your hat, Sailor. This is the Royal Navy, not the Army.”

He walked back towards the offices, where the blocks of dull, brown-bricked buildings awaited him yet again. The largest of them was also the welcoming reception for guests, and housed the boardrooms on the very top level. Upon passing through the ground floor office he spotted Phasma, alone, filing something in a cabinet, and so re-directed his route towards her.

“Lieutenant Commander, why was I not informed that Snoke was here?” Hux said sternly when he was within range.

“Apologies, Commander. I was unaware of his presence until a few minutes ago. It’s my understanding that the Rear Admiral knew that you would attend to Vindicate, and so thought to leave you a message there.” She was looking at him coolly, unfazed by his obvious annoyance. He was sure that little could rock her level-headedness. This was a hard career on women; she had certainly suffered worse than a few hissed words from him.

“It was degrading, appearing unaware of the presence of my Commanding Officer.” He muttered, deigning to walk past her, and turning back only at her voice,

“The only person aware of his journey here was Snoke himself. We had been given no forward warning, Sir. He’s on the third floor.”

Confusion. This seemed like an unplanned visit, but surely it was something of importance for Snoke to have travelled up to the Scotland from London – on the day of HMS Vindicate’s departure, no less. 

This Naval Base was old, and there were no lifts. Hux was aware that even if there had been, he would have chosen the stairs regardless. The time used to climb them was time he could use to compose himself. The rapidity of a lift left no time for thought.

He walked down a corridor of glass-walled offices, looking in each as he went, every one of them empty – except the very last. Snoke sat at the head of the meeting table, looking like a man beyond his own age. He’d been sat there for some time, it appeared, arms braced on the polished wood, and wrinkled hands clasped together atop a thin paper file. His eyes were closed, and Hux briefly wondered if the man had passed away whilst waiting for him.

As he entered, Snoke’s eyes opened with unnerving slowness – his eyelids peeling back, reptile-like, and his pupils focusing instantly on Hux.

“Sit.” The old man gestured at the seat opposite him.

Hux had met Rear Admiral Snoke just once in his career. He’d been a Rating, sixteen years old and appropriately gangly. Legs far too long, and freckles equally numbered with acne. His father had taken him along to a dinner in London.

“Here’s my boy!” He’d announced to a group of associates, guiding Hux forward into his circle, “A man like his own father. On his way to get his Dolphin badge, aren’t you, boy?”

The men around him had hummed in approval. Someone had smiled at him.

“He’ll be on his way up the ranks soon, I’d imagine. First time at sea is next week, HMS Turbulent.” His father had patted him twice on the shoulder, and let his hand drop.

Hux had felt, then, pride. Followed by the ever-present weight of his father’s expectation. The pride had stayed with him; his father’s expectation had thankfully lifted once the old man was buried in the ground.

At the end of that night, Snoke had shaken his hand. He’d been a Commander then, much as Hux was now. He’d given a few words of encouragement and, from then on, Snoke had just been a name in the system to him. He no longer had active duty, and rarely left London. He passed his orders down along the chain, as was custom, and that was that.

But here he was now, looking severely older and much more decrepit than Hux had remembered him being all those years ago. The number of his wrinkles grew the closer that Hux got, and by the time he’d reached the offered chair, he was shocked by the size of the man.

Snoke was feeble, curled in upon himself. He couldn’t be more that five and a half foot once standing. Had he always been so slight? Hux schooled his expression into one of professional curiosity, and sat upon the high-backed chair, hands automatically clasping together.

“I’m an old man, Commander Hux, and so I’ll get to the point. In two hours, a civilian by the name of Kylo Ren will arrive in Faslane. He is to come aboard the HMS Vindicate in complete secrecy and remain there for the next few months.”

Hux gaped.

“But…Sir, with all due respect, I cannot simply allowed an unqualified man upon my vessel. It goes against every regulation.”

“I am your superior. I give you leave to forgo those regulations in order to obey me. Do not question this decision, Commander, it will become clear with time. I have a file –“ With this he picked up the thin cardboard file in front of him and offered it to Hux, “-which will impress upon you the seriousness of this situation remaining secret.”

Snoke stood with a surprising fluidity, and pushed his chair under the table neatly. In passing behind Hux – still seated, and staring at Snoke's now vacated chair – he rested an almost fatherly hand on his shoulder.

“I know you will do the correct thing, Armitage.”

The jarring use of his own first name awoke Hux from his stupor, and he turned,

“Sir, surely, you can tell me more. I cannot operate under such limited information.”

“All the information you require is within the file.”

And with that he had gone, the door slotting neatly back into the doorframe with a hushing sound. Hux sat with the thin file loosely gripped in one hand.


	3. Deployment

Hux wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. It had all felt like a sick dream. He could almost feel Brendol Hux breathing down his neck, daring him to disobey a Commanding Officer’s order. Or, likewise, daring him to disobey set regulations.

There could be no balance here, he realised, as he picked at the edge of the file he’d been handed. He wanted to stop himself, lest he damage the paper. Yet he simply needed to do something with his hands. He felt like tearing the damned thing in two. There was the strangest sensation, the cold prickle of watching eyes, but when he looked around the room there was nobody there. He’d experienced this before, and often wondered if it could be his father. He was sure the man would appear in ghost form, one day, to berate him from beyond the grave.

It was one of those moments in life where he just needed to sit for a few minutes and pull himself back together.

Once his mind had calmed slightly, all thoughts of ghostly eyes gone, he felt brave enough to open the file. He had less than two hours, now, to posture himself. To adjust to this minor obstacle in his path. The ‘Ren’ person had no true threat to his job, he was likely a journalist or a reporter or some such. He’d heard of similar things happening aboard other vessels – an investigative piece revealing the day-to-day practices of a nuclear submarine. Yes, that was likely. There had been a lot of talk about Trident recently, a lot of talk about reducing the five nuclear deterrents down to four – even to three. It was simply a media piece to smooth over public’s relationship with the secret workings of the Royal Navy.

As for Rear Admiral Snoke’s abrupt meeting, Hux was sure that the man had plans elsewhere. He was busy, after all. In fact, it showed immense professionalism that he had sought to tell Hux of these plans in person. Very commendable.

Of Ren – "Kylo Ren," Hux corrected aloud once he’d read the name on the inner page of the file - there was little to worry about. Someone with such a ridiculous-sounding name couldn’t possibly be any threat.

It might be interesting, even, to mingle with a civilian for the first time in a few years. He closed the file, despite having read no further than the first sentence. He had a job to do, and a boat was still docked in the port requiring his clearance. Kylo Ren could wait.

 

He’d only had two weeks leave, and yet he’d forgotten the feeling of being in a submarine. Hux wasn’t an outrageously tall man, but stooping as he walked through the cramped corridors was a necessity. He remembered his earlier days upon the HMS Turbulent, where his head would constantly come into contact with pipes and door frames. He’d learned to duck by the end of his first week of deployment.

He touched a hand to the mess room door frame as he went through it, relishing the cool metal under his fingers, and the almost imperceptible brush strokes of white paint that covered it.

Two of the chefs were already at business, peeling a mountain of potatoes into a container, talking as they did so. They wouldn’t do this in the mess room usually - certainly not after departure, but the kitchen could be a tight squeeze, and it was fair for them to take advantage of the space before everyone else had boarded.

“Men.” Hux nodded. He recognised them from the previous deployment, although he was aware that a new Chef recruit would be joining them this time. He’d be taking out a few Ratings this time around. A group of eight, and all of them working towards their Dolphin badges. Much like he had, once.

The two chefs – Carter and Hoff, Hux remembered absently – has ceased their work, evidently expecting him to give an order.

“As you were.” Hux said, crossing the room to exit onto the next corridor.

It was unfathomably quiet. More so without all the men on board, and even then a submarine could be deathly still. It was in such a situation as this that Hux realised how noisy the wind through a tree could be - how the crackle of a dry leaf underfoot could sound like thunder in comparison to this; threatening stillness. But submarines needed to be quiet, especially one as important as this.

His travels around the rest of the boat took little enough time, and he was done with an hour to spare before the boarding of the other sailors – and of Kylo Ren. It struck him that Snoke hadn’t mentioned any specifics besides the need for secrecy. If secrecy was so fundamental, how on earth would this man get into a heavily regulated military base?

Hux retreated to his on-board quarters. The implication of the word ‘quarters’ and the realism of what it actually was, was laughable to say the least. It was a glorified cupboard. A desk, a chair, a bed. The carpet was grey and rough. There were fold-down shelves on which he kept his books. A lot of men brought electronic equipment with them for books these days, tablets and the like, but in his opinion they couldn’t rival the genuine feel of a book in one’s hands.

While his room was small, it was better than the sleeping quarters of the other men. Higher ranked sailors had the reward of sharing a room with fewer people, but those on the bottom rung slept nine to a room – three walls, each with a bunk bed of three levels, and the fourth wall with the door and some emergency equipment.

At least Hux had the promise of privacy.

It was in his room that he finally sat down to read the rest of the file, aware of the limited time in which to do so, but too unmotivated to attack the information with any real enthusiasm.

Kylo Ren was a citizen of both the UK and America – great, just what they needed, a Yank – he would be aboard for as long as Rear Admiral Snoke deigned, and would be treated with equal respect as his colleagues.

Hux snorted. He wondered what the men would make of that.

His business upon the vessel, Hux read, was undisclosed.

Undisclosed. The barb felt almost like a physical blow. Hux was the Commanding Officer of the HMS Vindicate. Nothing that happened aboard this boat was above his clearance level.

What was Snoke playing at?

A small voice in his head suggested, daringly, that perhaps what Snoke was doing wasn’t legal at all - that the reason for all this subterfuge was that he was working directly against his Command. Snoke wasn’t the highest rank in the Royal Navy, far from it in fact, and if any of his superiors were to know …

No.

Snoke was his Commanding Officer. He couldn’t. Even if he had wanted to, it was beyond his ability to reject a direct order. Besides, the only evidence he had against Snoke was the visit he’d received from the man, which could have been due to a variety of reasons, and the unmarked file that he held in his hands. If he was going to act, he would have to do it carefully, collecting information along the way.

If, of course. If. It was perfectly reasonable to assume that Snoke was relaying top-secret orders from above.

He turned back to the file. The little information supplied simply suggested that Hux was to mind his own business and leave Kylo Ren to his devices. It was all most intriguing, and very improper. What would Brendol Hux have done in such a position? Refuse Snoke’s orders? Perhaps push this Ren fellow off of the Submarine funnel once away from Scotland?

Hux’s temples had begun to ache, and they’d not even deployed yet. What a hell of a few months this would be.

At the very bottom of the second of the file’s two pages was a short paragraph detailing Kylo Ren’s arrival. He would be dressed as one of the new recruits, and would reveal himself to the Commanding Officer once aboard. Hux puffed out a breath of relief, glad that he was not expected to engage in nefarious activities in order to get this man aboard. Still, the idea of his vessel being infiltrated by a civilian - and an American at that - was almost too much to bear. He wasn’t sure which of the two labels was worse.

What was more, he didn’t know if Kylo Ren had been listed as a new recruit all along, or if the initial eight they were taking onboard would now be nine. The idea that this situation might have been planned several months ahead made him nothing short of furious.

Nothing in the file had said if Kylo Ren was to continue to act the new recruit upon deployment, and Hux didn’t know if the man would play along or not. But because he hadn’t gone through the initial training at HMS Raleigh it was safe to say he would be found out by the other men at some point in the future.

Hux wasn’t worried about keeping Ren a secret once aboard, it was not his concern. Anything written in the Sailors’ weekly emails to family would be checked by Naval Communications, and probably by Snoke. Anything about Kylo Ren would be picked clean from record.

‘Turn a blind eye’, his father would’ve told him. ‘You serve the Officer above you, not the country, no matter what anybody says.’ He’d heard this from the man countless times. ‘If the Prime Minister orders you to detonate Trident, you don’t cry for each little barefoot orphan you’ll create. You follow your orders.’ He wanted to appease the ghost, so he closed his eyes and nodded once with fierce determination.

When he got up from the desk, he folded the file in two and slotted it between the two most boring books on the shelf above. His fingers itched, as though he had touched something poisonous.

 

Lieutenant Commander Phasma was waiting for him on the dock when he left the boat. She was a lone female on his vessel, and was only allowed to be there because of her rank. Females and males could not share sleeping quarters, and while the newer Astute-Class submarines were built with this in mind, the older Vanguard-Class were built only to cater to men. It was luck that Lieutenant Commanders were blessed with private rooms as the Commanders were. Had she been any lower rank, she would have been forced to stay aboard an Astute.

He welcomed her presence aboard. Although they spoke to each other frankly and sometimes without gentleness, they had in fact been friends since childhood. It was part of the job to be professional, and it was a part of their genetics as well – both being children of Naval families.

Her smile was tight.

“I’d hoped to meet Rear Admiral Snoke, but found that he had vanished after your brief meeting.”

“Yes, well, had I an answer for the reason behind his brevity, I would tell you. As it is, I hardly know what the meeting’s meaning was myself.”

“Anything I should know?” She raised a pale eyebrow inquisitively.

“All above your level, I’m afraid.” He neglected to mention that most of it was apparently above his as well.

She nodded.

“I’d presumed as much.”

They walked together in an easy silence toward the main courtyard, where the new recruits would soon line up for a final drill and parade.

“I’d normally suggest we wait inside, Sir, but it’s a nice day today. For November, at least.”

“And we’ll have had enough of ‘being inside’ in a few weeks,’ Hux offered a rare smile, ‘We’ll get down on hand and knee just for a half a minute outdoors in a heavy thunderstorm.”

\- 

They waited not all that long, as it happened. The new recruits had been marched from the barracks to the courtyard, perfectly in time and looking sharp in their new uniforms. Hux knew none of their names yet, but would come to know them eventually. Forced proximity did well in increasing team-relations.

He noted that there were nine of the recruits.

He looked at each of them in turn, none of them returning his gaze, staring straight ahead as was taught.

Their training Officer brought them to attention, and they each numbered off from left to right. When this was done, they were ordered to fall out, and march towards the edge of the yard where they would wait at attention. Whichever man Kylo Ren was, he was doing a good job of blending in.

Soon, the remainder of the crew had marched into ranks, and the Junior Ratings were ordered to step back in and join the end of the parade.

“Company, attention!” Hux shouted. There was a beat, and then the sound of a hundred and thirty two pairs of feet coming together. At this point, Hux had always felt overwhelmingly powerful. He could order these men to do anything. The thought gave him a giddy sense of glee.

“Company, fall out!”

The sound of a hundred and thirty two pairs of feet swiveling on the tarmac, and then coming together once more.

There was a gentle sound of chatter, now, as Hux and Phasma each made their way back the HMS Vindicate. They would see little of each other in the next few weeks, despite being stuck on a boat together for three months. Submariners worked in shifts of twelve hours a time. Twelve hours on duty, twelve hours off to do with as they pleased. Sleeping was the main preoccupation. This was the structure of their next three months. As such, it was necessary that two separate crews worked aboard one Submarine, so that the first could work while the other slept. Hux would be in charge of the first shift, Phasma the next. There would be little availability for chat. You ate, slept, and showered when you could. It was a life of discipline, order. Hux adored it.

“Back into the fray, I suppose.” Phasma said lightly as they reached the boarding platform.

“As always, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Although it’s worth it alone for the pay.”

Hux allowed an honest smile at that.

“You can’t pay a man enough for depriving him of fresh air for three months.”

“Not quite true, Sir, we can always pop our heads out from time to time. Anyway, I’m off to get a good seat for lunch. I’ll see you when I see you.”

She saluted and then made her way onto the vessel, followed by a number of her crew.

The new ratings had been ordered to remain outside, awaiting their first address. They had fallen in line on the dockside, at ease, stoic and unmoving. They seemed a good group.

He gave the order for attention, observing their form for a moment, and was on the cusp of giving his next command when a voice broke out,

“I don’t need to be here for this.”

Hux found himself in the rare position of speechlessness. The ninth recruit, right at the end of the line, was staring at him defiantly. Kylo Ren, Hux knew immediately. The thickness of the American accent, the slight curl on the end of each word, stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Speak out of term like that again, sailor, and I can arrange for you to not come aboard at all.” Hux replied curtly. He faced the rest of the group once more.

“This is the first day of your Royal Naval Career. I am Commander Armitage Hux, just in case that information has somehow bypassed you. As Ratings, your main aim of this deployment is to-“

“I’m not a Rating, Hux. I don’t need to hear the welcoming speech.”

Some of the other recruits had turned to observe him, and Hux realised that this was quickly getting out of hand.

“Eyes front!” He snapped. The Ratings sharply returned to position. Kylo Ren’s black eyes remained firmly on him. He didn’t seem to blink.

“You will be working towards your Dolphin badges. By the end of our projected three month deployment, you will be a fully-qualified member of the Royal Navy, as well as an able Submariner,” There was a slight bite to his words, “Company, fall out!”

Eight pairs of feet came together, and the Ratings turned to the right – forming a straight line that was punctuated by the unmoving Kylo Ren. Awkwardly, the others navigated their way around him, until it was just the two of them left. A few silent seconds passed, where they seemed to observe one another. The gentle ripple of the water beyond the dock did well to calm Hux’s anger.

“I doubt Rear Admiral Snoke went to the trouble of providing you cover, just for you to blow it so easily.”

Kylo Ren looked away at last, but not out of avoidance to the question. He simply seemed bored of Hux’s presence.

“The other Ratings know I’m not one of them, I only joined their group today. Am I dismissed?”

“Not remotely. I’m sure you believe yourself unstoppable with Snoke’s support on your side, but I should tell you that it will count for little over the next few months. You will be aboard my vessel, and you will adhere to my rules. I don’t care about what you’ve been assigned here to do, and I don’t want to hear about it,” Kylo turned his eyes to Hux once more, “My concern rests only with my own men and their work. You are an outsider, but still ruled by my regulation – is that clear?”

Kylo blinked, and then smiled in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“Of course.”

“You’re dismissed.” He’d almost added ‘sailor’ onto the end of the command, but the suggestion of the word tasted bitter in his mouth. Kylo Ren eyed him for a moment longer, unnerving leer still lingering, before he turned and swept away.

Hux allowed a small sigh to escape, the breath steaming briefly in the air. He suspected that the combination of anger and cold had turned him pink once more.

 -

He was the last to step into the boat, and so paused briefly in the entrance to let the warm air truly submerge him. The dock workers were completing final checks, closing hatches and removing the pipes and tubes that ran into the vessel. He heard the hatch clang shut behind him after he’d turned the corner.

There was a twenty-minute wait once Hux had joined his crew in the control room. Lieutenant Mitaka was busy with communications; keeping a line open with the control office on port. They would be told when everything was set for them to make progress.

The all clear was given, and the work began. An even allowance of water was let into the ballast tanks as the propellers came to life. There was the slightest feeling of movement, both forward and down, but so small that it was easy to dismiss.

When the final permission was given Mitaka took control of the steering, guiding the vessel cautiously away from the side of the dock. It was slow work, which was why Hux was glad to delegate it to a Lieutenant.

The Submarine couldn’t descend completely, not within the relatively shallow waters of Gare Loch. They travelled away from Faslane, tracked at all times by the control office back at port. Unhurried was the progression out of the Loch, but once they’d passed Rosneath they began to descend again.

The slight change in buoyancy meant that sinking had no real bite. You might feel unsteady, perhaps, as the floor sloped gently underneath your feet, but the process was generally so slow that it was barely exciting. Once completely submerged, their only mission was to safely make it to open waters, which meant navigating the broken paths of Scotland’s western coast.

Somewhere around the head of the Isle of Arran, Hux delegated complete control of the room to Mitaka, choosing to do the rounds and check in on the new crewmembers.

They’d had a good hour to settle in at this point, and the remnants of the other crew’s lunch were being cleared away from the mess. Lunch for Hux’s Crew was approaching, but he wanted to do a once-over of the vessel before he even thought about eating.

There was nothing truly to be cleaned at this early stage of deployment. Regardless, work had to be created where there was none, and discipline had to be consistent. Two of the new Ratings had been put to work cleaning the washrooms, both of them oddly satisfied with their assigned jobs. The enthusiasm of new recruits, Hux thought, was always bordering on endearing.

The new Chef was also an American, and Hux had a momentary, panicked thought flit through his head; that perhaps he’d identified the wrong man as Ren – before he realised how ridiculous he was being. Ren had already come forward. He hadn’t seen him since their first unpleasant introduction, and that suited him just fine. He was beginning to hope, in fact, that their brief altercation had just been a fever dream on his part.

The new Chef was polite, pleased to be aboard. He identified himself as Finn, which surely had to be a nickname, and revealed that he’d come over to the UK from the US as a child. The accent had proved difficult to shift, apparently. 

Hux found the remaining Ratings scattered across the Submarine, each put to work on different jobs as dictated by the inferior officers. In their off time, the Ratings were to work on filling in their progress books, as well as learning about the interior layout of a Submarine – identifying key areas and equipment. It was no light work, and it couldn’t be said that anyone aboard was slacking.

Except one man, of course.

Kylo Ren had commandeered the very top bed of one of the bunks in the Rating’s quarters. He was lying there upon Hux’s entrance, quite still, but unfortunately not dead. He’d thrown both arms over his face, and had one leg crossed over the other. 

He turned his head to look at the door upon hearing Hux enter, but resumed facing upwards once he realised who the intruder was.

“I will not be sleeping here.” He said plainly.

Hux did not deign to answer him. He found that the most provocative thing that could be done in a conversation was to remain silent. Kylo seemed to know this too, and held the silence for as long at his attention span would allow.

“I cannot share a room with the others. I require privacy.”

“There’s privacy here, you have curtains across each bed.”

“Complete privacy. I need quiet in order to meditate.”

“We’ve had Buddhist submariners before; you can always find quiet corners of the vessel. The medical room is open for your use if you need a separate room.”

“Using the medical room as my accommodation will be acceptable.”

Hux grit his teeth. “Nobody is allowed to use the medical room as accommodation. It’s against regulation.”

“As am I. I’d suit the room perfectly.” The statement struck Hux almost as a joke, but Kylo Ren’s emotionless tone and expression spoke differently.

“There are other spare bunks besides this one,” Hux diverted, attempting to keep calm, “You wouldn’t have a room alone, but you’d share it with significantly less people.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to make do here.”

And finally, finally, Kylo Ren looked angry. Hux was delighted.

“This is ridiculous-“

“I quite agree.” Feeling very content with himself, Hux turned and exited the Ratings quarters, leaving Kylo Ren looking very sour indeed.


	4. The Shadow

Hux didn’t see Kylo Ren for the remainder of the twelve-hour shift, which suited him just fine. He had continued his observations throughout the vessel, and had found everyone to be both cohesive and hard working. At any other time, this knowledge would cheer him, but the weight of Ren lingered in the back of his mind, dampening his mood.

The final hour of the shift crept by at a maddening pace. Hux had already lost track of what time it was up there, above the surface, but it didn’t matter much when one was as tired as he was. The first few shifts were always weary to the system. When Phasma and her crew came to relieve duty, he could almost have kissed her.

“Nothing to report,” Hux relayed to Phasma, trying desperately not to yawn. As he stood, she caught his arm, and looked shrewdly at Mitaka, who had turned already to leave.

“Kylo Ren?” She murmured, eyes once more on Hux.

“What of him?”

“Well, anything I should know? Has he done something, said something?” She had released the grip on his arm now, perhaps realising how paranoid she appeared.

“If he had, Lieutenant Commander, I would have briefed you on it.” Hux said, tartly. “As it is, I haven’t seen him since the beginning of my shift. If you’re concerned, I’d recommend checking on him in person – although be warned; he bites.”

She huffed and nodded, then took her place in Hux’s chair.

He took the shortest route he knew back to his quarters, determined to start on the mountain of paperwork that awaited him, as well as catch a few hours rest.

 -

The first week went by much the same as the first shift - although the separate days of this ‘week’ were very much indistinguishable. With no sunlight, no indication of the days passing, and little connection to the outside world, life quickly stretched into one very long day.

The crew, at first, had treated Kylo Ren as a kind of urban myth. Whispers had started during the very first of Hux’s shifts; that there was a stranger onboard – an unqualified man who had somehow found his way onto the submarine. Someone had even reported to Phasma with the rumors, and she had said ‘I know’, probably whilst grinding her teeth.

The man in question was rarely seen. He seemed to spend all of his time in the new Rating’s cabin, much to the horror of the young recruits. One boy had taken to sleeping in the games room, until Hux had put a stop to it. He’d found the same boy sleeping in the corner of the gym a few shifts later, and had given him a disciplinary. He had to admit, however, that he might have done the same as the boy had he been forced to share a room with Ren – who, according to some of the other Ratings, talked to himself under his breath, rarely slept, and rarely blinked when engaged in eye contact. It was undeniable that Kylo Ren had stirred up controversy on HMS Vindicate.

Once the noise had spread that Commander Hux had indeed breached regulation, and had taken Ren onto the boat willingly, he found that the ‘cohesiveness’ demonstrated by the crew during his first shift was wavering. Now, eyes lingered on him a tad too long when he walked down corridors. Not angry eyes, or even mistrustful eyes, but eyes that saw him in a new, unforgiving light nonetheless.

He knew, though he had been putting it off, that the issue of Ren would have to be addressed to the crew. Although there was no single space large enough for the hundred-and-thirty-two men onboard (or even just half of that), he hoped that delivering a short speech to a controlled group would result in the message being spread around the submarine organically.

During one of his own shifts, he gathered together a group comprised of both his and Phasma’s crewmembers. Phasma herself was not present, but had given him her blessing, half-mockingly.

They all met in the mess hall - the common room would have provided much more comfort, but would have packed a smaller crowd. The acoustics were better in the mess hall, as well.

Once everyone had found their place on a bench, or leaning against a wall, he took his spot at the head of the room near the doorframe. Gradually, all eyes found him, both detached and curious alike.

When he cleared his throat and coughed politely into the white silence, someone sniggered.

“Kylo Ren,” He began, wanting it over and done with, “Is indeed unqualified, and aboard this vessel. His purposes for being here are his own, and have nothing to do with anyone else,” he grimaced, “including myself. Let’s each of us get on with our own work, and allow him to perform his.”

“He doesn’t do an awful lot, though.” A new Rating said. He looked up at Hux from one of the foremost benches, wide-eyed, and Hux realised he was the boy who had been disciplined for sleeping outside of quarters.

“If it’s true what everyone’s saying, that he don’t do nothing but sit in the bedroom praying, then why don’t he at least help with some work?” The chef, Carter, suggested. Hux had known that the announcement might lead to this, and had prepared a number of replies.

“I’ll leave it to my officers to delegate any work they see fit to Ren. It’s not my job to issue out a toilet-cleaning rota, but I’m sure many of you would happily dole out some meager work.”

There were a few grunts from the crews. Several of the men began to fidget or stand from their seats, obviously satisfied with Hux’s short address, and ready to get back to working or resting. Just looking around, the majority were evidently swayed, and no doubt those who weren’t would come to him personally anyway, so he decided to dismiss the group. It was not difficult to win over military men, especially as they had been conditioned to follow authority unquestioningly. Hux knew this firsthand.

“Thank you, all, for your time. As you were, Crew 1 return to active duty, Crew 2, fall out.”

He stepped to the side of the doorway, nodding at each man as he passed. Those who were working left quickly, and at the head of the group. Phasma’s crew trickled out afterwards. Hux remained in the mess room to talk to the Chefs, and see how their food stock was holding up. As he turned away from the remaining stream of departing men, however, his eyes were drawn to the far corner of the hall.

There Kylo Ren stood, dark and still. It took a moment to register properly, because he hadn't seen any sign of Ren entering the mess hall, or having already been there upon his arrival.

The rest of the men had gone, but two of the Chefs, Carter and Finn, were chatting casually at one of the tables. When they noticed that Hux was still present, they looked up at him, and then in turn towards where he was staring. This seemed to be the key to unlocking Ren, who, with all the room’s remaining attention focused on him, strode forward arrogantly until he was level with Hux.

Carter nudged Finn with an elbow and stood, a silent indication that they should both most probably leave. Hux broke his eye contact with Ren to give the two men a small nod. They left, and the room was finally theirs.

It was true, Hux thought; Kylo Ren really didn’t blink. This was the closest to the other man he’d been so far, and the first time they’d seen each other in at least a week. His eyes, he thought again, were frightening. He’d heard the old stereotype that criminals were more likely to have completely black eyes, like they had no soul, but this was beyond anything he’d ever expected a human to be capable of. It was as though the pupil, as full of Ren’s arrogance as the man was himself, had swollen up to double, triple its size, and had absorbed whatever colour had resided there before. And there was something else in there, something teeming, that seemed almost to be alive, and he could-

“Get away from me.” Ren said, sharply. It was only then that Hux realised how far forward he was leaning. He cleared his throat and stepped back.

“I’m glad you heard that all, Ren,” he recovered easily, “It’ll come as less of a shock, now, when my men task you with a job. Although,” he looked him up and down, “I’m sure a day’s solid work would come as a shock to you anyway.”

He had expected Ren to get angry, as he had done that day in the Rating quarters, but instead he was impassive, unblinking as ever. He sidestepped Hux, and made for the door, unhurried. Hux, unwilling to let him go that easily, followed, and called down the corridor angrily.

“I’m not finished speaking to you, Ren!”

Kylo Ren had turned and looked at him again, and that had been enough.

Unexpectedly shaken, Hux returned to duty and said not a word to Mitaka, or anyone else, of what had occurred. He had thought it in passing before, but it was completely clear to him now that there was something not quite right with Kylo Ren. It had nothing to do with his insolence, or his purposes for being aboard the Vindicate - it was something deeper than that. He had seen something when he’d looked into Ren’s eyes, something that - and Hux scoffed at his own dramatics – wasn’t entirely human. None of it could possibly make sense, and thus he forced it out of his mind.

It succeeded for a few blissful days where, shift-on or shift-off regardless, he was swamped with work.

It was when he next saw the man that his frenzied mind began replaying every twitchy thought he’d discarded a few days prior. It was just a glimpse of long, dark hair disappearing around a corridor bend, but it was plenty to jumpstart his mania. Hux wasn’t proud to admit it, especially as he had other errands to attend, but the temptation to follow Kylo Ren was easy to submit to.

He turned the corner, but Kylo Ren had disappeared down one of the three passages on offer. That was when Hux snapped out of it, bustling back to his business as though nothing had happened.

Glimpses of Ren continued to haunt Hux whenever he walked alone in the corridors of the boat. On every occasion, by the time he’d decided to follow, the trail had gone cold. Hux wasn’t stupid, however. He knew, with a high probability of certainty, that he was being baited - drawn away by a man that had, until recently, hidden in his room for days as a time. As much as he chose to minimise his time in the corridors, he seemed to catch sight of Ren every other shift. He never walked as though he had a purpose, and this was threatening to Hux for some reason. It was as though he were circling an unknowing prey, waiting for the moment to pounce.

Days wound on with little change of routine, although Kylo Ren was being as suspiciously active, and quiet, as ever. It was a surprise when, on a shift four weeks into deployment, something highly irregular happened.

“Hold on – Hux – what’s that?” Mitaka asked. It was not often that his Lieutenant was confused and so Hux turned immediately, to see Mitaka pointing at the radar screen.

In the days since leaving Scotland, they had not come across another vessel. The sea was a big place, it had to be said. And yet here was something, a dot that flashed silently on and off at the edge of their radar screen. It came no closer, and left only moments after it had been pointed to.

“Perhaps a whale?” One of the other Lieutenants said, uncertainly.

“Don’t be stupid, no whale is the size of a Submarine.” Hux bit back. He was unnerved. There should be no other registered vessels on this track, they had checked. He grabbed his logistics book regardless, and flipped to the chart map. “Relay this altercation back to Faslane. And stay on guard, it might come back.”

But they saw no sign of the mysterious shape for the rest of the shift, and so Hux reluctantly handed over command to Phasma when the hour came. She alarmed Hux by not being all that concerned, and instead told him that he needed to relax and have a proper sleep for once.

On his break, Hux dozed at the chair in his quarters and dreamed of a shadow which followed them, nine fathom deep in the murky blackness below.

 -

He continued to have bad dreams whenever he slept thereafter. More often than not, it was a simple dream of drowning – a common one in the Navy – or the even more common nightmares of falling or having teeth drop out. There were a few times where he dreamt some truly strange things. On one occasion, Kylo Ren stood over him with a knife that glinted red to reflect a hot, bloody sun that hung above both their heads. When Hux had tried to squirm away, Kylo had laughed and tugged at his own dark hair until his scalp melted away, and his father’s face was all that remained. He’d looked down at Hux and spat on him, and that was scarier than any dream of drowning or falling.

He’d also dreamed of the shadow again – numerous times, in fact. He could never truly see it in his dreams, but he felt its weight, like lead around his neck, the knowledge that some great presence was stalking him. When he woke from these dreams, he liked to rationalise them by personifying the shadow as Kylo Ren, whose presence had certainly weighed like lead upon him for the past few weeks.

As much as he tried to laugh the nightmares off in this way, they were unusual in the sense that it never felt as though he had awoken from them. Whether he was eating in the mess hall, or steering the boat, or observing the new Ratings, he always felt as though he was being watched. It was made worse by the fact that the Submarine made him feel encased and trapped, and altogether too aware of how he couldn’t simply run away from the black shade that was haunting his thoughts. A few times he had consider changing course to shake the feeling. Silly thoughts.

Once, though, he had told Phasma of his dreams.

She had returned to her quarters, directly next to his, to retrieve some paperwork presumably, and had heard Hux shout out briefly. When she’d entered his room, she found him lying on his bed, deathly pale, and sweating enough to soak the sheets through.

She had shaken him awake, and he had darted upright as though burned by something. When she’d asked, he’d told.

And now on shift handovers, or whenever they came into contact with one another, she always looked at him critically, as though he were a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.

“You know,” She said, catching him by the doorway on one such occasion, “You’re driving yourself mad with thoughts about him.”

“About who?” He asked, genuinely confused, and slightly foggy for need of sleep.

“Ren. You’re obsessing over him. He’s been aboard for almost six weeks now, and he’s done nothing. I don’t like him, and I don’t like that he’s here, but we’ll soon be shot of him anyway. Ignore him.”

“I can’t.” His eyes darted above, to the side, anywhere but at her. He didn’t need to be coddled, and she was acting like a bloody mother hen, “I should never have let him onboard. It’s…weighing on my conscience - it’s been weighing on my conscience since we left Faslane.” He swallowed and tried to stand up straighter. Was he imagining it, or was he sweating again?

Phasma smiled briefly, and then looked serious once more, “Look, I don’t know why you’ve been so high-strung lately, but I reckon you just need a bit of air. A reminder that the sky exists and all that. In fact, we all do. We all need a bit of sun, it’s like a submarine run by ghosts down here at the moment.”

She was waiting for him to speak, but he found that he couldn’t, so he nodded silently to satisfy her. Again, she smiled, and he found himself wanting to do so in return. Not because they had joked about something maliciously together, but because she had smiled at him and it had been friendly and non-threatening.

“You need some rest first, though. Next shift changeover, how about that? I’m serious, though, get some genuine sleep.”

Although he was afraid to sleep, he did so anyway, and woke three hours before his shift began, visions of dark figures imprinted in his mind.

Phasma made a brief announcement through the Vindicate’s intercom, which crackled with static despite the high quality of the rest of their technology. Upon hearing that they were going up for the first time in over a month, the men were understandably happy.

At changeover time, Hux met Phasma at the steering desk and pretended to be well rested. She seemed relatively fooled, and said nothing of how heavy his eyelids must have looked.

“Going up.” She announced to no one in particular, and began to drain the ballast tanks so that the submarine could rise to the surface smoothly.

Hux was unsure whether they were still at the same depth as they had been during his last shift, but it didn’t take long at all for the boat to reach the surface of the water. They knew they had reached the top not because of any highly developed technology, but because the boat bobbed ever so slightly in the waves of the north Atlantic. It was a welcome change to the controlled stillness of the water a few hundred feet below, and was certainly worth the slight-queasiness that Hux always had the misfortune to experience. With the help of Mitaka and the other Lieutenants the Vindicate was stabilised just above the surface, moving forward at the slowest possible speed.

“Shall we observe conditions?” Phasma asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, instead making straight for the ladder to the funnel entrance. In his haste to see something other than painted metal and blue linoleum floors, he almost forgot his PPE – a small harness that attached around the waist and legs – remembering it after he’d climbed a few rungs of the ladder.

Phasma, her harness already on, reached the top of the ladder and hooked herself onto the top rung as a safety precaution. As Hux waited below, attached to his own rung, Phasma entered the hatch code, and began to turn the heavy wheel that unlocked the main frame. She pushed it upwards with strength that must have come from her eagerness to be outside, and they were both hit by a blast of icy air.

He was wearing just a thin t-shirt – regulations stated that formal wear was unnecessary while working aboard a deployed Submarine – and yet the last thing he wanted to do was to shy away from the cold. Phasma had lifted herself out of the hatch, and the faint ‘clink’ of metal on metal told him that she had attached herself to one of the railings on the top of the funnel.

It was a small place to stand, barely two meters by two meters, and yet this didn’t matter when the whole ocean was underfoot.

“Water, water, every where.” Phasma recited to the air.

The sea was silent. It felt as though they were the first to intrude here, as though they alone were the conquerors of this cube of water, and perhaps it was true. The water that was here now would move along with them, and new water would roll in behind. This hypothetical square would become somewhere brand new that had never been the same before, and would never be so again. A breeze pleasantly tickled the shirt against his neck. How he could ever have thought it ‘icy’ was beyond him.

“You must be freezing.” Phasma observed, although she wasn’t looking his way. Her thin hair whipped against her face as she stared off at the horizon.

“On the contrary, this is the warmest I’ve felt in days!” Hux raised his voice over the wind, which had whistled particularly loudly, and Phasma laughed.

“Let’s go back down and allow the others up, we’ll have time later.” She said, and they made their way back down into the funnel, shutting the hatch behind them. Group by group, the Lieutenants went up, and then nearly all of the rest of the men. Some didn’t wish to go outside, but those that did were given their ten-minute allocation.

It was cramped, but six men at a time could safely fit up there. Sometimes, although rare, conditions were good enough to raise the Submarine even higher above the surface of the water, and the crew would climb down the ladder on the outside of the funnel to take break on the top of the boat. The weather had been fine when Hux and Phasma had gone out initially, but as each group of men went up and came back down again, they spoke of a developing storm. It was typical that they had only surfaced for a few hours, and yet had already attracted the rain.

Hux had quite forgotten about Kylo Ren, distracted by his improved spirits. It was Phasma who mentioned it again, turning to face him in the communications room.

“Ren hasn’t gone up yet.”

“Why should he?” Hux replied stiffly, “I haven’t seen or heard from him.”

And Phasma had the sense not to debate the issue, at least until Mitaka came to them a few minutes later, looking anxious.

“Commander Hux, Kylo Ren has ascended the funnel without direct permission.”

Phasma gave him a look. Hux turned in his chair, stood, and marched out of the room, Mitaka jogging alongside to keep up.

“Is anyone else up there?” Hux snarled. It was not something to be taken lightly, not even for a legitimate crewmember. Standing at the top of the funnel in a storm, especially when unaware of safety precautions, was idiotic.

“One of the Lieutenants and I followed him up there and tried to order him back down but-“

“But what? You outrank a civilian, surely? Are you sure you tried commanding him, or did you just ask politely?” Releasing his anger, even on the relatively innocent Mitaka, felt better than it should've.

“Well, uh-“ But Mitaka was at a loss for words, red and shamefaced. It was lucky for him, Hux thought, that they had reached the funnel base; otherwise Lieutenant Mitaka would’ve been the recipient of a few more harsh words. There was a sick sense of enjoyment swooping low in Hux’s stomach, now, and a triumphant little voice in his head that sounded pleased. Ren could not disappear down another corridor, could not outmaneuver Hux at the top of a funnel – not unless he was a good swimmer.

Taking a harness from a hook, he took the rungs at speed. The hatch was still open, and upon emerging he immediately clocked the figure of Kylo Ren, who was leaning against a railing with the ease of someone who wasn’t currently standing in gale-force winds. It was only due to Hux’s quick reactions that he clipped his harness onto the railing in time, clutching the strip of material in around his waist as though it were a lifeline.

“I’ve decided to befriend you.” Ren said, still facing away, his voice perfectly audible despite the harsh screech of the wind. Anything Hux could have said would’ve been lost in the noise, and so it was just as well that he didn’t have any response to the statement.

Ren turned, black hair – longer than Phasma’s – whipping around his head like black fire.

“This is not really the time,” Hux shouted when he found his tongue, “nor the place!”

Kylo blinked, and then looked at the monstrous, ashy cloud above them, as though he hadn’t realised that it was there until this moment.

“Did you really lure me up here to tell me this?” Hux was sure that Kylo, like some of the men below, was one of the rare types of man who could go for weeks or even months without an urge to see the outside. It made sense, then, that he had only climbed the funnel to either annoy Hux or to bring him out into a precarious situation. Hux clutched the harness around his waist a little bit tighter.

Ren looked at him with dark eyes that made the cloud above look like cotton wool.

“Yes. Okay. Let’s get down.” He pushed off of the railing, and dropped himself easily into the hatch. Hux watched, mouth agape. A particularly brutal thrust of wind rocked the boat, and Hux decided that it was certainly time to follow.

He secured the hatch behind him properly, code and all, because the Submarine would need to be submerged again in a storm as bad at this. He stepped off the base of the ladder, and there was Kylo, haired mussed, cheeks whipped pink by the wind.

“What the fuck are you playing at,” Hux stated calmly. He was beyond rage, at this point, and only wanted answers.

Kylo Ren smiled, but it was not his normal cruel smile. Neither was it friendly, like Phasma’s. It resembled Hux’s mother’s version of smiling – all teeth but nothing genuine in the eyes. It was the smile of someone who had the intention of appearing pleasant, but had not yet mastered the art of expressing emotion.

“There are no games being played here, Commander. I mean what I say.”

Somehow, Ren was even more menacing up close and smiling than he had been lurking at the edge of a room in the shadows, or standing beneath the bowels of a thunderstorm.

“Get away from me,” Hux said evenly, placing his harness back onto its hook before leaving for the control room.

He didn’t look back at Ren, and Ren did not follow. When Hux slept again a few hours later, the shadow that lurked beneath them in his dreams had transformed into a large, murky cloud, which watched the tiny metal submarine like a great black eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos I may have missed. I have no beta and I must scream.


	5. The Green Light

Now their course was bound towards the Americas. Within a week or so they had travelled through the mid-Atlantic and had come out the other side, straddling the coast of Canada.

To Hux’s horror, Kylo Ren seemed to have taken his own proclamation of ‘friendship’ to heart. It was no longer uncommon to see him haunting a communal room, or eating in the mess room at meal times. He was silent for the most part, but that was simply his nature. Ren was not clinging to Hux – they had not spoken, in fact, since the storm. As Hux’s dreams had worn progressively worse, he was quite thankful for the lack of conversation.

They were around ninety miles from the shores of Nova Scotia when Phasma suggested that they rise to the surface once more. It was already planned that they dock in America to replenish food, but Hux thought that there could be nothing wrong in taking another break above the water – especially as the last had ended so dismally.

“Let’s bring her up, then,” Phasma murmured, as they sat side-by-side in the control room. Mitaka had already begun to stand eagerly, evidently ready to taste fresh air once more. It seemed stiflingly hot aboard the submarine, a sensation probably emphasised by the cold breeze of their first surface break. The only relatively cool place was in the small gaps between the torpedoes. New Ratings were often bullied into sleeping in such places - as a ‘character-building exercise’ - but in the recent swelter the weaponry room had become contested territory. What Hux wouldn’t do to be able to open a window. He’d taken as many cold showers as he could, even though they offered little relief. The water flow was feeble, and sputtered constantly. It was typical that the Royal Navy could build a top of the range nuclear submarine, and yet not a half-decent showering system.

The HMS Vindicate rose slowly to the surface, and once the funnel had cleared the line of the water; Hux opened the hatch to check conditions.

They couldn’t have asked for a better day. The water was calm, the sky clear and cloudless. Although it was warm, a slight breeze took away the edge. After days of clammy heat inside the submarine, it was a relief.

“Good conditions.” He called down into the funnel, and Phasma called back, “excellent.”

He closed the hatch and descended.

“Good enough conditions for deck, I think.” He relayed. They could risk it this close to the coast, and there were no projected storms in this area anyway. Then again, on the previous occasion, the weather had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Brilliant.” She said, and she looked like she meant it. Her eyes were bright, wrinkled at the corners.

They made an announcement over the system, and although they were in the control room, Hux swore that he could hear excited conversations from a distance.

More air into the ballast tanks, and they climbed to the highest depth that they safely could reach. Then the fun began. One by one, men climbed the funnel ladder, out through the hatch. They took a breath or two of salty air, and then clambered down the ladder on the outside of the funnel. No harnesses needed. They sat, or stood, or lay on the flat top of the submarine, embracing the pale sunlight. There wasn’t enough room for everyone together, obviously, and so each group of forty-odd switched every hour or so. They struck out there well past lunch, and all five chefs worked overtime to cook enough for the whole crew.

As Hux ate his curry out of a mess tin, looking down on the world from the top of the funnel, he realised that he could live no other life but this. It was a glorious moment.

Kylo Ren stepped up beside him, eyes fixed on some patch of water in the distance. Hux, feeling uneasy, as was normal in Ren’s presence these days, said nothing. There was a stretch of silence between them, permeated only by the relaxed chatter of the men below them, and the gentle ‘whoosh’ of waves rolling against the side of the boat. He wasn’t sure whether Ren was lost for words, or whether he was attempting to be intimidating, but he found that he didn’t quite care either way.

Hux scraped up the last of the rice in his mess tin and ate it, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. When he leaned against the railings, Ren mirrored him, and he felt the odd urge to laugh. At a glace out of the corner of his eye, the man looked quite impassive. There was a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, as though he had eaten something especially bitter, but beyond this there was no indication of what he might be thinking.

Hux moved to take his tin back to the mess, but before he’d even taken both arms off of the rail, Ren spoke.  
“I meant what I said.” He addressed the air in front of him. Hux waited for a moment to see if anything further was coming, but clearly Ren was being as infuriatingly evasive as usual.

“I’m sure you did,” and now he turned, intending to leave the scene as quickly as possible.

“We can be useful to each other.” Ren said, emotionlessly. For some reason, it was this that riled Hux up. He was not at all well versed or experienced in the subject of ‘friendship’, if that was what Ren would call it, but he was sure that their individual definitions were violently different. Now he turned around, his back facing the hatch once more, and found that Ren had turned to face him also.

“You seem to believe that normal human relationships are built on usefulness alone, which ultimately explains why you seem to have no functioning social skills.” A gull squawked above them, Hux liked to think that it was laughing with him.

“We’re similar, you and I,” Ren plowed onwards as though he had not heard Hux’s words, “We can offer each other many things.”

“There was a point where I found your vagueness to be infuriatingly dramatic. Now I just find it to be pathetic.”

“How much longer to you intend to be a Navy man, Commander?” Ren asked, tilting his head slightly to one side like a curious animal, “Surely not for ever? Work and climb the ladder, retire to a pension and die? It doesn’t seem big enough for you. You’re an ambitious man, I can tell.”

It was the most he’d ever said in Hux’s company, and this took him so aback that he allowed the other man to barrel onward.

“What is your purpose, Commander? Do you tell yourself that you’re a good employee? That serving the regulations makes you a loyal little sailor?” He leered, his eyes bright and humourless, “Such a good boy, and yet you allowed someone like me aboard your little boat. Tell me Commander, are you serving your country, or your superiors?”  
“I’ve never claimed to have morals.”

“That’s not what I said. I already know you have no morals. Ambition, however, you have plenty.”

“I fail to see what you’re alluding to.” Hux said. He had a nagging feeling that something here was not quite right, that Ren was bordering on traitorous talk. If that were so, he wanted no part.

“I see the way you act, you don’t see yourself as a military man. You see yourself as a man with a lot of power. Who has a set of codes which opens a safe with a red button in it. You wouldn’t mind using that button would you, Commander?”

“I’m warning you to stop, R-“

“You think that babysitting weaponry is pointless. You’d prefer to use it outright. What is your impact on the world otherwise?”

Hux gaped, opening and closing his mouth like a fish before snapping it shut completely. He felt colour drain from his face, so much so that it almost felt as though the vivid red of his hair was paling with his skin. He’d stand here gaping until his hair was white as a cloud.

“How dare you,” He croaked, and cleared his throat, “How dare you provoke me like this. You’re saying dangerous things.”

“I’m not provoking you, Hux.” Ren’s eyes glittered, but they were not malicious. They seemed to look past him and into some hopeful future that Hux couldn’t see. “I’m offering you an escape. We’re so alike, how could I not offer you a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Hux asked, unconsciously stepping back and almost stumbling. Ren frowned and moved his right arm out to steady him, but seemed to realised midway through the motion that it was unwanted.

“A new future for yourself.” And this seemed to be it. Ren left his sentence hanging, tantalising, above Hux. Promising so much, but telling him so little. Huxlooked back onto the glorious setting that he had been admiring up until a few moments ago, and it seemed to draw him away from the temptation that Ren had offered him. He recognised, however, that he was still in a dangerous place, and so without a further word between them, he lowered himself back down the ladder of the funnel. Afraid of looking up and seeing Ren staring down at him, he kept his own eyes on his feet. It made him slightly dizzy to look straight down, but it was far preferable to what remained above.

He returned his things to the mess in a slight daze, trying very much not to think too deeply on things. Never before had he been read so clearly by someone. Not even by Phasma, and she had known him longer than anyone besides his mother. How was it that a complete stranger, upon knowing him for a sparse few weeks, could seemingly pick things out of his brain like that? So easily, as though reading a script.

He had thought of Ren’s insinuations before, but had attempted to bury them deep, away from his consciousness. To hear them said aloud was jarring.

Hux found himself back at his personal quarters, and it was almost natural for him to go straight inside to the fold-down bookshelf, and fish the small paper file from between the two heavy books. He had not laid eyes on it since that first day, but he looked at it now as if expecting it to explain something new to him. As if staring hard enough at the blank space where the text ended would somehow force a new sentence to appear. He sat down heavily on the bed, and it groaned slightly. It was a welcome change of noise to the otherwise silent atmosphere of a submarine, and Hux wished he had the energy and youthful carelessness to jump up and down on it with abandon, and make more noise.

He read the words of the file over and over, trying to decipher a code, to try and figure out exactly who Ren was. Naturally, there was nothing new to be interpreted.

Hux had successfully, since the beginning of the deployment, pushed the idea of traitorous behaviour to the back of his mind. He had reasoned with doubts of Snoke and Ren in his head, and had decided to turn away – much like he’d turned away his own violent, ambitious thoughts years ago.

He jolted upright with a sudden electric fear, which shot straight up and back down his spine. There was something wrong. None of his normal senses indicated that this thought was true, but there was a deeper aspect in him - screaming that there was danger around. The air felt as though it had tightened.

The rational voice in his head, probably his father’s, pointed out that it could easily be another flash storm, sucking the atmosphere out of the opened hatch of the submarine – but for an improvable reason, Hux knew this to be false.

He became aware of himself again, standing in his quarters with a body jittering with energy, fingers still clutching useless paper. Tossing the file aside, he grabbed for the door handle, and once past the frame, made a mad dash to where he felt a pull.

Give him a map of the vessel, and Hux still couldn’t have pointed out where he was headed. His feet were simply drawn in a direction, and he was convinced that should they direct him toward a wall, he would probably run straight through it.

The operation room was quiet from the outside. Of course submarines were always quiet, but this was an unnatural kind of quiet. Not as though the sound had been sucked away by something, but as though all possibility of sound existing had been removed.

When he pushed open the door, he saw what he had expected to see. Kylo Ren, seated at the control panel, heavily invested in doing something, and looking like he understood what that something was. On the floor were two of his Lieutenants, including Mitaka, both unconscious and sporting what looked like a necklace of red marks around their throats. Perhaps he should be shocked. He should have a reaction beyond just standing there looking, but in truth this had not been covered in training, and he was fresh out of situational judgment.

“You still won’t join me. It’s a shame.” Ren said, not turning from the radar screen, which showed several red dots, presumably other vessels, “You’re an intelligent man. We could have used you.” He was flipping a few switches with purpose.

“How do you intend to take on a hundred and thirty men?” Hux asked, his voice returned.

Ren turned, stared at him with those eyes, and then looked to the crumpled figures on the floor. He turned his eyes back to Hux and then, point made, returned back to his work.

“When you say ‘we’, you mean you and Snoke, yes?” Hux prompted, beginning to edge along the side of the room. Some inspiration had nudged its way into his head. Luckily, Ren seemed far too preoccupied to notice Hux moving beyond the boundaries of the door.

“There’s more to it, but yes, me and Snoke mostly.” He said this with such an air of childish arrogance that Hux almost let out of breath of laughter. He had reached the emergency system alert now, something to be used in situations where the commanding crew was in danger. He pressed it once, and then a second time for good measure. It sent out a silent alarm that would flash green lights throughout the rest of the submarine. He simply had to hope that Phasma was not still outside.

“What are you trying to achieve? Is this a … suicide mission?”

“Snoke has more important things for me.” Ren replied simply.

“You need the boat but not the people.”

“Exactly.”

“So what’s to become of us?” Hux asked carefully.

Ren huffed a bitter laugh, but said nothing. He pressed a final button that didn’t seem to do anything, but Hux knew that this likely did not mean that no damage had truly been inflicted. On the radar screen, the red dots – six of them, he saw – had moved closer. And were now flanking them, three a side. Now, Kylo Ren stood and turned, eyes dark and serious, focused on Hux. As he strode over, Hux felt the need to shrink away, but decided that, were this the moment he died, he didn’t want to do so with the shame of cowering away from a boy.

He came right up into Hux’s space, raising a hand and clasping his jaw firmly.

“You could still join me.” He said quietly, squeezing just a bit harder so that Hux’s jaw began to ache at the joint. Somehow, though in a vice-like grip, he managed to shake his head in both refusal and disgust.

Something flickered in Ren’s face, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment the door burst inwards. Phasma and eight other crewmembers, most being officers, paused only momentarily to take in the scene, and then rushed forward.

Hux had a moment of relief, just enough to think ‘I’m saved’, before chaos broke loose.

Ren, left hand still firmly gripping Hux’s chin, waved his right at the group, and they flew backwards.

It was a trick of the light, surely. Or perhaps Ren had gripped him so hard that he was beginning to hallucinate. Had the submarine jolted, and flung everyone backwards, maybe? Perhaps this was one of his nightmares, becoming all the more vivid.

It could easily have been his mind playing tricks, for Phasma and some of the men, were on their feet once more. They looked equally as surprised as Hux felt, but that could simply be because-

Ren, with his palm splayed outwards, directed it towards Phasma and clenched it quickly into a tight fist. She dropped instantly, and didn’t get up again.

At the three other men, he swiped at the air, as though brushing an object aside. They catapulted into the hard metal of the wall; making a painful ‘booming’ sound and leaving pronounced dents.

Hux had never believed in magic, not even as a child. He was logical; he liked things with reason and explanation. He was not inclined to believe something without solid evidence, and yet here was evidence of something that he could never have possibly imagined existing. When Kylo Ren turned back to him, Hux finally realised just how precarious a situation this was. A nuclear weapon in the hands of someone like this – someone like Snoke? It couldn’t happen.

Luckily, Kylo Ren had not attended Royal Navy basic training, where close combat was taught as a skill. Before Ren had the chance to do anything, Hux leaned backwards and, with power, swung his head forwards into the other man's skull. It hurt him too, but not as much as it seemed to have hurt Ren, who dropped to the floor with a yelp.

Warmth trickled from his nose and onto his top lip, where it tainted his taste buds with metal. He dashed back to the control panel, praying in part that Ren hadn’t disabled anything vital for what he was about to do.

A glass case which protected a switch cracked with a punch, and he managed to flip the button beneath to sound the emergency evacuation alarm. Ren growled from behind, but by the sound of his unsteady fumbling, it seemed that he was having trouble regaining balance.

Hux knew what to do. He had never dreamed that such a day would come, but he had been trained for its possibility a long time ago.

There was a key that, once placed into the keyhole of the control panel, would allow the user to disable the nuclear core of the sub. Without the core, obviously the submarine would lose power and begin to fall into an uncontrolled sink, but if it meant that Ren were unable to use the HMS Vindicate for whatever he and Snoke needed it for, Hux was more than happy to use drastic methods.

The key, luckily, was in his possession at all times. Not in his pocket or on a key ring, obviously, but around his neck on a small silver chain. He pulled the chain over his head, at the same time flicking a few other switches which would make the death of the submarine a little easier. He moved quickly. Ren was growing more vocal at the second – which usually meant that a person's head injuries were unfortunately recovering. He thrust the key into the hole, mashed his code into the lock combination, and rotated the key to the side whilst pressing the grey button above it.

Instantly, the lights died out.

Three seconds later, the rescue lights flickered on, swamping the room with damp blue light which made Ren appear as a shadow rising from the sea-like floor. He lunged at Hux, pulling him to the ground, grabbing him by the throat and throttling him, which Hux supposed was a testament to the bond they’d built, if Ren were willing to do the deed physically and without his magic powers-

“’The force’,” Ren rasped through gritted teeth, and now Hux could genuinely feel the other man inside his mind, spreading through his head like smoke. It was real. It made his eyes roll backwards, and his head drop to the floor with a crack.

At each breath, his chest seemed to be constricting tighter and tighter, there were spots of black peppering his vision. Still, he lashed out, even if just for the sake of saying he had done so. Ren was surprisingly strong, something which his lanky frame did not give credit to. Hux was no bodybuilder, but he had a fair lining of muscle on him, and yet he couldn’t get Ren’s grip to budge at all.

He would’ve been in trouble, then, if Phasma hadn’t regained her consciousness. Silent, without so much as a grunt, she encircled Ren’s neck with her arms and tugged back, once, sharply.

At that moment the floor gave a jerk, and began to fall away from beneath their feet. It slanted to one side ever so slowly, and it seemed to unbalance Phasma, who fell to the side and brought Ren with her.

Hux was up like a shot, brushing himself down, legs slightly wobbly. He left the other two to grapple with one another, trusting in Phasma’s strength to win over. Mitaka laid crumpled, limbs entangled around the feet of a chair. He was listing slightly to the right with the floor of the sub, and so Hux rolled him over to survey the damage. A hand thrust underneath the shirt found his heart still beating, so Hux reached over to the other Lieutenant – who he found in similar circumstances.

“Phasma,“ his voice scratched out, “help.” He was attempting to lift the dead weight of Mitaka over one shoulder.

It was possible that the escape chambers could be of use, but having sounded the emergency alarms a few minutes ago, he was sure that both had already been ejected by others attempting to escape. The only way out would be the funnel – provided it still lay above the surface of the water. It was a game of time.

Back onto his feet, and with Mitaka’s arm slung over his shoulder, he began to stagger towards the door. A sound like a clap of thunder came from his right side, making him deaf in one ear for a moment, and when he turned his head to look past Mitaka’s form, he saw Phasma half slumped at the base of the wall, blood on her face, looking stunned.

She pulled herself back up to continue the fight, but Ren pushed past them both and was gone.

“Stop him,” Phasma said whilst slipping back down the wall, giving a valiant effort to find purchase with her feet. It was more difficult now, with the floor angling steeper.

“Leave him, let’s get out first,” He found himself unreasonably calm. ‘Probably the shock,’ a little voice came from inside his head, and he nodded in agreement with it.

Offering a hand to Phasma, he pulled her up before readjusting his grip on Mitaka and continuing out of the door.

They struggled down the corridor together, Hux carrying Mitaka, and Phasma supporting the second Lieutenant – who had woken up. It was frantic, blunt fingernails trying to catch onto smooth metal walls in order to pull themselves along. The battle was uphill, now, the slant of the submarine almost too much to climb.

He found himself realising that he might die here. Even when Ren had choked him, he hadn’t quite accepted the fact that his life could end right there, but now-

“Quick, quick,” Phasma groaned. They had almost reached the base of the funnel. There were lifejackets hanging out of an opened cupboard, and so Hux grabbed an armful, slinging one haphazardly onto Mitaka.

Thankfully, the lean of the submarine meant that the rungs of the ladder became footholds on their mountain. It sped up the escape significantly.

Hux had bent his head forward, unwilling to look towards the light that he knew was waiting for them. He didn’t want to test his luck - see the sky for a slight moment before being washed back down by a river of water.

The luck stayed with them. The edge of the hatch cut into his fingers as he squeezed it, pulling himself up the final few inches. The surface of the water was just two meters below, and becoming closer by the second.

He slid Mitaka over into it the water first, deploying his lifejacket as he did so, and then followed.

The water was like ice; it stung his bare skin raw.

He fought to get back to the surface. When the air hit his face, it made the ocean seem warm in comparison.

Yanking on the cord of his own vest, Hux pivoted himself around clumsily. The top of the funnel was kissing the water now, waves lapping gently against the black metal. Phasma and the Lieutenant bobbed back up from underneath the water, immediately swimming away from the HMS Vindicate and towards Hux. He also began to subconsciously move away, dragging Mitaka along with him.

As soon as the water brushed the edge of the hatch opening, it began to pour inwards violently. They could hear the echoes of it smashing against the floor inside. How many people had escaped? No more would do so now.

He’d seen enough. He turned his back to it and began to swim away whilst pulling the other man as he went. Ahead was a good collection of sailors who’d escaped, scattered amongst the waves. Most had their lifejackets on, but some did not. There were a few who looked unconscious.

One man, nearby, was facedown in the water, floating there limply.

“What now?” He asked himself aloud.

“Now,” Phasma said thickly, around what looked like a broken nose, “We wait for help. We sent out an SOS call.”

“There were other boats on the radar,” Hux recalled, and looked about as if to search for them. But the sea was empty, save for a few men in orange rubber vests, littering its surface.

“Gone.” She said.

He’d have liked to count the number of men, those who had escaped. But it seemed that some had been pulled off into different currents. The four of them, Mitaka held by Hux, scrabbled at each other’s vests, fingers slippery and numb with cold. Their legs had become non-existent, all sensation deadened by the freezing water. Gradually more men drifted away, until the four were all that remained. All alone in the wide, wide sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abandoned this fic for a few months while I was trying to get work, moving house and applying for Uni all straightened out, and I'm glad to say that I'm now able to pick this thing up again. I've just finished sieving through the existing chapters for mistakes, and have added the little terminology chapter on the front. Next chapter is in the editing process. Stick with me on this one folks!


	6. Norfolk

The water had begun to feel warm. The initial cold had lost its bite after a while, even more so with the bright sunshine plastering down upon them. It was an odd sensation, to be experiencing such nice weather whilst simultaneously knowing that oneself was in mortal peril.

There was nothing to be done. The failure of the submarine had sent an automatic SOS message back to control in the UK. They would send rescue. But it would take time, and there was little else to do but float.

Phasma’s Lieutenant, Andrews, she reminded him, had passed out again about twenty minutes after their escape.

After an hour of floating, Mitaka had come to. He was hazy at first, but once his expression had cleared, he had made a grab for his own throat – a look of terror on his face.

For some reason, it was this that broke Hux out of his blank thoughts. He hadn’t said anything in the hour after the evacuation from the boat. Neither had Phasma, in fairness.

“We left those three men in the operation room.” He said hoarsely. Phasma didn’t make any sign of having heard him. She was staring morosely into the black water beneath them.

Hux didn’t like looking down. The water was so murky that he could barely see his feet. Kylo Ren could be down there, waiting for the right moment to drag them all back down to the sub – that metal graveyard – make them lie alongside the three men in the operation room, hold them there with his force until they spewed out their last gasps-

“You saved who you could.” Mitaka replied quietly, rubbing at the dark plum-coloured finger marks around his throat. He swallowed audibly, “No one will blame you.”

“They’ll court marshal me for destroying the sub. I activated the switch key. It’s my responsibility.”

He could see Mitaka shaking his head, but he knew he was correct. He was done. There was a reason why captains went down with their ships.

-

It was approaching sunset when Phasma saw the ship.

“Look,” She croaked, staring out towards the horizon, “What nationality are they?”

The waves had begun to get choppier, and for a moment swelling water blocked Hux’s view of the horizon, but when it passed under them, he saw it too.

“Is it a fishing boat?” Mitaka asked, not waiting for an answer before yelling, “Here! Man overboard! Over here!”

The ship was close enough now that they could see figures on deck and, with some difficulty, a man waving back.

“They’re coming.”

The ship came alongside, about twenty foot away. The men aboard threw damp ropes that smelled of decay towards them, and the three conscious submariners grabbed at them desperately, as though the stinking ropes were their own lifelines. Phasma hooked her arm around a strap on Andrews’ jacket, and then signaled to the fisherman to pull them in.

It was a bit of an awkward affair. The men on the ship weren’t really at the right angle to pull them, their own equipment blocking their path. Hux ended up swimming more that being pulled. His legs were difficult to coordinate, as he could barely feel them, but somehow he managed to splash his way over to the ladder on the side of the ship.

One of the fishermen leaned over the side and offered a hand, but Hux hauled himself over with ease. They had some difficulty lifting Andrews onboard, and one of the crew ended up jumping into the water to grasp the man around the waist and carry him. They took him straight off below deck, where they said they had a first-aid kit, although Hux didn’t know what they expected a few plasters to do for an unconscious man.

The deck was slick with salt water and fishy-smelling slime. It was nothing like a Navy vessel. There were bits of rope, equipment and fish everywhere. The fishermen helped pull off their lifejackets, someone gave them each a thick woolen blanket, and ushered them inside, away from the spray of the sea.

The operation room was informal, and quite homely. Metal chairs and table, but littered with a few bright coloured pillows. There were some cards still laid out on the tabletop, and the cold remains of a McDonalds burger sat next to them. A small kitchen-area in the opposite corner of the room had a collection of novelty mugs and a water heater.

“Were you told to fetch us?” Mitaka asked a ginger-bearded man, who’d followed them inside to fix some drinks. He was thickly muscled, and looked as though he would be more suited to chopping down trees than catching tuna.

“Ah no, we’ve been out here fishin’ for ‘bout half the day. Heard the news on the radio and realised you guys were in our area, so we were watchin’ out for ya.”

“The news?” Hux lifted his head to look the ginger-bearded man in the eye, recognising that he was the one who had offered his hand out. Perhaps he had taken some slight offence that Hux had rejected his help, because the man’s expression lost some of its friendliness when he turned to Hux.

“You’ve been makin’ international, buddy. Not everyday a big nuclear sub goes boom.”

“The Vindicate didn’t explode,” Hux said with distaste. “I ejected the core. The Canadian military have probably already sent some men out to retrieve it, in fact.”

“Alls I’m sayin’ is, if we start pullin’ up fish with three eyes, I’m blamin’ it on the British.” The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he began to pour hot water into a few odd mugs. “Only got coffee, I’m afraid.”

“That’ll do.” Phasma said quietly. “And thanks.”

The bearded man handed out the mugs of steaming coffee, and belatedly introduced himself as Benjamin – ‘Benj, if ya want’ – and sat down opposite from Hux, with his own mug in hand.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, what happened down there?”

Hux had a rather biting reply on the tip of his tongue but was, perhaps thankfully, interrupted by Phasma.

“Classified.” She smiled sadly at Benjamin.

“What are they saying about us on the news?” Mitaka piped up from behind Phasma, where he’d settled on some sort of sofa, and curled himself up in his blanket like a cat.

Benj shrugged. “That you guys messed up a bit. Whole loada shit about Trident being dangerous. Even more shit from people about nukes and things. Mainly just people wonderin’ what the heck happened that you had to evac’ like that.” He took a deep swig of coffee.

“I’m sure you’ll find out eventually.” Phasma said, closing her eyes and leaning back in her chair. She looked about as exhausted as Hux felt.

“Any of your lot going to finish that?” Mitaka asked, pointing at the half-eaten burger on the table. Benj looked him over for a moment, and then shook his head.

“Go ahead. I forgot you guys probably haven’t eaten for ages. Sorry ‘bout that. Only other thing I can offer ya is raw fish. We don’t usually eat when we’re out workin’.”

“What’s the plan?” Hux asked, as Mitaka wolfed down the leftovers. The fishing boat, although smelly, was a relief after floating in the water for hours. It was also a safe haven considering the monumental trouble that was most likely awaiting them back on shore. Despite this, he was eager to set foot on solid ground again.

“Get you back to land. We were heading back home anyways. We sent out a call sayin’ we’d picked up four people, so I’m guessin’ you’ll have somebody waitin’ on ya. Probably some of your lot jetted over here soon as they heard what happened.”

“I expect so,” Hux murmured. “Are we the only survivors so far?”

“Well I can’t claim to know everything what’s happened, but we saw a big ol’ Navy ship headed past us a few hours back, so I ‘spect they’ve picked up a few of your men. Haven’t heard much in the way of numbers on the radio.”

“Ah.”

“Well, I’ll let you guys get some rest!” Benj stood, downing the rest of his drink and wiping at his beard with the back of a hairy hand. “We should be shored up in an hour or two, so get what you can take.”

“Thanks.” Mitaka said, giving Benj a nod. Phasma seemed to have already dropped off, and was snoring softly.

Hux felt far too wired to sleep. The water had dulled all physical senses, perhaps mental too. Now that he was warm and, yes, caffeinated, it seemed impossible that his newly rejuvenated brain would quiet down enough to sleep.

How many men had he seen get out? Those three in the operation room were certainly dead – they’d been stone cold unconscious when Hux had dragged Mitaka out. A large portion of the crew had been out on deck when Kylo Ren had begun his little coup, so hopefully they had stood a good chance of getting away unharmed.

And Ren. Hux could only hope that he had drowned.

Equally, he wanted some proof that the phantom of a man had existed.

More; that his … force had existed. His magic powers? But that sounded too childish a description for what he had actually witnessed. Magic was fun card tricks, waving wands, pulling rabbits out of hats.

It wasn’t crushing someone’s windpipe. And it wasn’t throwing someone into a metal wall hard enough to leave a dent.

It certainly wasn’t reading someone’s mind, nor projecting themselves into other people’s dreams.

Hux wasn’t an idiot. He had thought about it, blearily, while floating in the sea waiting to be rescued. Over the past few weeks, he had experienced the sense of not being alone in his own mind. Coupled with the strange dreams and the unnerving look in Ren’s eyes that day in the mess room, Hux was sure that Ren’s powers extended to the mental as well as the physical.

How he was going to explain this to Navy command, he didn’t quite know.

What he did know was that Snoke had a lot of questions to answer.

-

“Listen buddy, I’m sorry, I can’t just let you take ‘em off of here. I don’t know who you are – I don’t care if you got a uniform on! - And don’t interrupt me just ‘cause-“

“Benj, man, just let ‘em take ‘em.”

At some point, Hux had fallen asleep. The gentle rocking of the fishing boat and the sound of the waves outside made for relaxing background noise. He must have slept for a decent amount of time, because when he peeked through his eyelashes, he could see the lights of a town through the starboard window of the operation room. He had decided to keep his eyes mostly closed because the three men – Benj and two unknown voices – were still arguing.

“-Show me some ID then! You think we’re just gonna hand some guys we rescued over to a complete stranger? You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

Across the table, Hux could see that Mitaka was also awake, and listening avidly to the exchange happening behind him. Their eyes met, and the young man made a ‘shush’ face, placing a finger before his lips.

“I can bring my superiors up here, if that’s what you need. They’ll tell you the same, and they won’t be as polite about it.” The stranger said. He didn’t sound Canadian. He sounded-

“What have you guys got to do with it anyways? The sub went down in Canadian waters, not American! You guys don’t have a right to take these men with you. I’ll wait for the British as long as I have to.” Benj said, sounding slightly proud. Hux was beginning to warm to him. He hadn’t had the best experience with Americans recently, but their northern neighbours could expect a thank-you card off of him.

The stranger shrugged, “I can’t answer that one, Sir, I’ve just been sent here to relay a message. Look, I’m gonna fetch my superior, so wait here a moment.”

Once he had left, Benjamin swung around looking slightly red in the face, his crewmate rubbing the back of his own neck awkwardly.

Hux made a good show of waking up, and nudged Phasma’s calve with his foot. He thought that maybe she had actually been sleeping, as she was in the same position as she’d been before he’d nodded off. She stirred, rubbing her eyes and yawning, “Are we there?”

“Yeah,” Mitaka said, stretching, “The American military are trying to take us away for some reason.”

“Not having much fun with the Americans these days, are we?” She said shrewdly, glancing at Hux.

“I wouldn’t say we ever did.” Hux replied darkly.

Benjamin laughed. Hux had forgotten that it wasn’t just them in the room.

“How’s Andrews?” Phasma asked Benjamin.

“Who?”

“The unconscious man we brought onboard.”

“Ahh. He woke up on the way back. Seems alright. We kept him downstairs ‘cause it’s warmer. Wanted to sleep, but we didn’t think that’s a good idea for a guy with a head injury. We need to get you all to hospital, but we’re in a bit of a stand-off at the moment.”

As if on cue, the stranger entered again, this time with a very dashing man in tow.

“Dameron,” He introduced himself, extending a hand to Benjamin immediately, and offering up a gleaming smile to everyone else in the room. “Heard we were encountering some hold-up with the whole exchange program, so I’m here to settle your problems.” He had relaxed into the pose of an action hero, hands on his hips, and dark hair gloriously wind-swept.

“Are we to be told why we’re being abducted?” Hux asked loudly, “Or are we just supposed to sit here while you negotiate over us?”

“Apologies.” Dameron shrugged, “But I can only reveal my secrets if you agree to come with us. Which I’d really like you to do.”

“Don’t patronise us,” Phasma spoke up, “We’ll agree to go with you if we’re to be given medical treatment.”

Hux looked at her sharply.

“If not, then you can leave without us,” She finished.

“Of course you’re going to be given check-ups,” Dameron said, surprised. “I haven’t come here to collect you for experiments, I’m here to collect you because you’re in danger.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” Hux snapped. “We’ll bloody come with you, but I want Lieutenant Andrews and Lieutenant Mitaka offered medical support immediately – they’ve both been unconscious for large amounts of time today, and one is sporting a head injury. Then – and only then – can you unload your fucking conspiracy theories on us.”

“Okay then,” Dameron said, eyebrows raised. “Let’s go.”

Benjamin had been watching the conversation in silence, and spoke as Hux got up.

“Stay safe, buddy.” He offered Hux a handshake. Hux took it, and was hauled into a hug.

“Thanks for everything,” He said, avoiding eye contact as he pulled away.

“Don’t mention it,” Benj said cheerily, turning to Mitaka and Phasma and offering his farewells.

Hux approached Dameron, who became frighteningly more attractive with every step closer.

“Lead the way,” He said, stonily.

-

They had big military jeeps outside. Of course they did, the Americans wouldn’t ever think of being subtle, Hux thought spitefully.

There were also about a dozen soldiers, complete with guns, milling around the vehicles. He was feeling more and more like a prisoner of war as each minute ticked by.

The three of them were guided into a jeep driven by Dameron. Hux took the front seat. They waited for Andrews, who eventually emerged, hobbling down the dock towards them.

“Alright?” He asked generally around the jeep as he opened the door and clambered in.

“Just about,” Mitaka answered, “How’re you holding up?”

“Fuckin’ killer headache, mate,” Andrews winced, massaging his forehead.

Hux saw Dameron frown slightly out of the corner of his eye, before chirping out, “We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as we can. We’re driving to the flat-top we’ve got parked up a few miles away. Bit difficult to find somewhere to dock it, but we managed. It was the easiest way for us to get here.” He shrugged.

“An aircraft carrier? What are you, exactly?” Phasma asked curiously, as they pulled off, following the three other jeeps in front. They exited the docks onto charmingly named Water Street.

“Pilot.” Dameron sniffed. “Submarine rescues aren’t exactly my area, I know, but I’m doin’ a friend a favour. I’ll let her explain when you meet her.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Hux prompted. He was looking out the window and trying to make out distant surroundings, but it was far too dark now to see beyond the shaded shapes of the street. As he spoke, his breath fogged the cold glass.

“Well, you’re officially dead at the moment.” Dameron stated, snapping his mouth shut after it was said, as if he knew that Hux was going to go mad and was regretting his decision to say anything.

“What on god’s earth-“

“Look, I’m not the ideas guy behind this one, okay? Just trust me.” Dameron had been taking both hands off of the wheel to enunciate his words with hand movements, and it was starting to unnerve Hux. He was somewhat concerned that this man apparently flew aeroplanes.

“Is it just Hux who’s … dead?” Mitaka asked casually.

“Yeah, but we’ll go into more detail when we get to camp, so hold your horses.”

The flat-top wasn’t “parked” too far away. They’d have been able to see it from the docks, had the fishing boat not blocked the view – and had it not been nighttime.

“Where are we?” Hux found himself asking Dameron.

“St. Johns. I don’t know if that’s the town name or the island name,” he admitted, “but something is called St. Johns.”

The flat-top was possibly the largest ship he’d ever seen, ridiculously so. Its roof was utterly flat – unsurprising, given the name – and he could just about see some helicopters on it. The rest of the ship looked normal. It was as though a giant foot had come down from the sky and squashed the upper part of the vessel flat. The car was silent as they boarded, the group of jeeps parked neatly beside each other in the huge garage-like underbelly of the ship. Just before they left the car, what looked like half a hospital worth of medical staff rushed over. Mitaka and Andrews stepped outside, and were peppered with questions before being carted away to the first aid room. Phasma and Hux, still in relatively decent health, both decided to let the nurses leave before emerging from the car.

Dameron turned to Hux, looking apologetic.

“You’re not going to like this,” He began, “But I’m going to have to hide you in my room. We’re meant to be limiting the number of people who see you.”

“Will I have to live the rest of my life this way?” Hux asked sarcastically. The statement flew over Dameron’s head.

“No, but you might want to think about growing a beard or something.”

“Wonderful.”

Dameron fetched a hooded coat out of the boot and offered it through the window to Hux, who raised an eyebrow but took it nonetheless. Trying not to look conspicuous, they made their way out of the hangar with Hux dressed as though he were off to the arctic.

A pokey little bedroom quarters was to become Hux’s refuge for the next few hours. Phasma and Dameron left to get themselves some food, promising to Hux that they’d bring him something back from the mess hall. Hux sat gingerly on the bed, and then slumped back against the wall.

Dameron returned half an hour later with some cutlery and a mess tin full of rice and chicken, offering them to Hux before pulling a chair up near the bed.

“The nurses got your friend,” He announced, sitting down, “She’ll be okay with them. She didn’t look happy about it, though.”

Hux wasn’t keen on eating with Dameron sat opposite him. He knew that the American would probably want to edge him into conversation, and Hux was far too tired for any of it. He also knew that Dameron had probably been charged with drawing as much information as possible out of all four of them, and this knowledge made Dameron’s paltry attempts at controlling the conversation painfully obvious.

“What happened to the Vindicate?” Dameron asked offhandedly, staring intently at the patch of wall above Hux’s head, as if it were an interesting piece of art. The pitch of his voice was slightly above his normal range, and Dameron actually winced, as though he knew that his sentence hadn’t come off naturally.

“Classified.” Hux answered simply, digging his fork into rice.

Dameron gave him a look.

“C’mon, we’re both military aren’t we?”

Hux fired a look back, and put his cutlery down to make a slightly more forceful point of it.

“If you think the fact that we both salute people for a living means that I’m going to betray my country for you, then I fear for the average IQ of the American Air Force.”

Dameron shrugged tamely, and huffed a laugh.

“Just askin’, pal.”

But he left it after that, and Hux returned to his food.

When he was done, Dameron informed him that he was going to ask for a nurse to come up to the room and give him a check up. Hux decided that he couldn’t really avoid it for much longer.

The two nurses that visited declared that Hux was in good health, but told him to take care of the finger-shaped bruises on his throat. They didn’t ask questions.

Phasma came back at some point, and Dameron left them alone for a while.

“Haven’t a clue what time it is, you know.” Phasma remarked, dropping into the chair and closing her eyes. “Don’t think I’ve seen any clocks around here.”

“Must be 2am at least. Certainly feels it.” Hux’s yawn punctuated his sentence.

“Haven’t a clue where we’re going either. That Dameron fellow didn’t mention it, did he? I’m not going crazy.”

“No he didn’t.” Hux confirmed absently, crossing his arms behind his head. He was lying on the bed now, despite not having taken off his shoes.

“What do we say about Kylo Ren?” The statement burst out of Phasma as if she’d been on the edge of saying it for a while.

He supposed that they hadn’t actually discussed what they’d witnessed together in the operation room of the Vindicate. It was very much something that probably needed a group discussion – with Mitaka and Andrews as well – and something that he didn’t really know how to address. He sighed.

“Well, we’re going to have to talk about it at some point. And if anyone has to bring it up to the Americans, I might as well be the one to do so. I’m formally dead, so I suppose being considered formally insane won’t really change the situation for me.”

Phasma grimaced.

-

A new day dawned bright through the window of the little room and Hux, who had slept briefly on top of the sheets for an hour or two, watched the sun’s arrival while deep in thought.

He was alone. Phasma had been offered a bed in the medical ward alongside Andrews and Mitaka, who, she said, had both been deep in sleep for a while.

She’d left him as he began to drift off.

He didn’t know where Dameron was, but this only meant that he had the silence of the room to himself, so he wasn’t complaining.

There had been no sign of any coast for as long as he’d been awake. He knew, based on logic, that they were probably headed to an American naval port on the east coast, as it wouldn’t be too far a journey from St. Johns. He only knew the names of two submarine bases on the east coast – King’s Bay and New London. Asides from that, he was lost.

Irregardless, they probably wouldn’t reach their destination until midday, which was an awfully long time to wait when you were stuffed in a small room.

When Dameron returned, Hux had a few questions prepared.

“Where are we headed? What happened to the rest of my men?” He fired off before Dameron had even closed the door. He looked surprised to see that Hux wasn’t sleeping.

“Slow your roll,” He said incredulously. “As it happens, I was about to tell you some stuff anyway.”

Hux gestured for him to continue, and crossed his arms.

“Well, we’re going back to Norfolk-“

“-Is that near New London Naval Base?”

“Uh – no. That’s just for subs. We’re going to Norfolk to deliver you to someone,” As though he were a parcel. Hux scoffed.

“As for your men; the Canadian military and the coastguards rescued most, and civilian boats picked up a handful. The Canadians sent them all to hospital for treatment, and those who are fit enough are being flown back to the UK for debrief.”

“I could do with some numbers. We had one-hundred-and-thirty-two men aboard that boat.”

“Over one-hundred rescued, I can’t say definite numbers for sure – I haven’t heard yet. You guys were the last ones to be rescued, but they’ve got ‘copters out there now looking for stragglers.”

Hux nodded, feeling sick. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Just thought I’d come in and ask if you wanted anymore food.”

“I’ll pass.” Hux said, lying back down.

Dameron hesitated, clearly on the verge of saying something.

“If you want to ask me something, just spit it out.” Hux snapped, massaging a temple.

“Did Kylo Ren make it out?”

Hux shot back up and stared at Dameron, horrorstruck. “How do you know…“ he croaked, his hands had flown to his throat.

There was an unidentifiable look on the other man’s face as he stared back down at Hux, but he made no move to say anything else.

“Was he – fuck – was he one of you?” Hux asked, blood beginning to boil, “Did you bastards send him over to us? You know him, don’t you?” He’d stood from the bed and paced towards Dameron.

“Calm down buddy, okay? It’s not what you think – I shouldn’t have brought it up-“

“-Too fucking right you shouldn’t have!” Hux snarled, “For what it’s worth, I didn’t see him afterwards. Hopefully he drowned.”

The fact that Dameron didn’t seem surprised by this outburst made it slightly easier for Hux to accept that he didn’t know Ren on a friendly basis. He took a few deep breaths.

“Sorry,” Dameron said. “I wasn't meant to bring it up ‘til we got to base. You’ll have some more answers when we get there.”

“I can hardly wait.” Hux replied blankly, lying back on the bed, and facing the wall.

-

He was swimming. He couldn’t see anything, and he was swimming.

The dark pushed inwards at him, squeezing him, and then – suddenly – light. A slight glimmer of sun reflected off of water, above his head. It was so far away.

He kicked his legs furiously. He didn’t want to die down here. He didn’t like the darkness.

He grabbed for the light with his arms, his long black hair kept sweeping in front of his eyes. They were waiting for him nearby, he felt them.

He scrambled upwards, and his fingers broke the surface –

“Hey, we’re here.”

Someone was prodding his shoulder. Hux gasped for oxygen, as though he had been holding his breath in his sleep.

When he turned over, Dameron was frowning at him. “Nightmare?” He asked. Hux decided not to answer.

He stood, rubbing a hand over his face and blinking rapidly. Judging by the sun outside, it was midday. The light dazzled off of the roofs of what looked like a thousand cars, lined up neatly in possibly the biggest car park he’d ever seen. Rows of aircraft carriers, each as big as the one he stood in, were docked alongside them. The size of everything was utterly stunning.

“Go big or go home, right?” Dameron joked upon seeing Hux’s face.

“Quite.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yes, thank you.”

It felt wonderful to finally leave the room, his prison for the past half a day. There was no need to hide his face this time; they came across no one else in the corridors that led back to the hangar.

“I should’ve told you,” Dameron began, “Your buddies are doing okay. They just have to be kept in medical for precaution. They’ve all had some bumps to the head, so it’s just to be safe.”

“They aren’t coming with us? To wherever you’re taking me?”

“They’ll join you eventually. We’re going to HQ.”

“How far away is it, exactly?” He asked as they got into the jeep.

“Not far at all, but you wouldn’t wanna walk it. ‘Bout half an hour drive.”

It seemed as though Americans had a different interpretation of ‘far’, which he supposed made sense, because it was a bigger country after all. They were quite rich with space over here. Not like the UK, where some towns stretched into the next one, and the next one, and the one after that, until it was difficult to see what bordered what, and everything just ended up as one mass urban sprawl. In some places in America, you could probably walk the length of Wales and not see more than two houses.

At least, that’s what he guessed.

HQ was on the other side of the base. They pulled up outside the glassy front door of a building that wouldn’t look out of place in the business district of a busy city. An American flag hung over the entrance, billowing slightly in the breeze.

“C’mon,” Dameron said, jogging up the steps to the door.

It was hectic inside. All uniformed men and women, and paper, and shouting.

“It’s not usually this chaotic,” Dameron said cheerfully, “It’s just ‘cause of you guys. That sub is gonna be a lot of work.”

A man patted Dameron on the shoulder as he walked past, “Hey Poe!” One or two more people replicated the gesture.

“I thought you said you were just a pilot?” Hux asked suspiciously.

“I help out with side projects now and again.” Poe Dameron replied lightly. Hux narrowed his eyes.

They pushed their way through to a quiet corridor at the back of the building. There were pictures of naval vessels on the wall; historical photographs with descriptions and dates beneath. The light blue colour of the walls was soothing.

A glossy brown door at the end of the corridor had a brass nameplate on it. Only when they were close enough for Dameron to reach up a hand and knock, could Hux read ‘General Leia Organa’.

“Come in!” Came a heavy female voice from behind the door.

It was your bog-standard office. Filing cabinets, white blinds on the windows, a polished wooden desk with papers neatly stacked, two chairs on the other side like a headteacher’s office. A middle-aged woman was sat at the desk, facing them as they walked in. She was dressed in typical Naval uniform, her epaulettes reflecting that of a General. Her brown hair was flecked with silver, and was pulled back into a tight bun. Offering a gentle smile, she stood up to shake their hands.

“How’re you doing, Poe?” She asked. Her voice was one of someone who had inhaled more cigarette smoke than oxygen in her youth.

“Great, thanks, Ma’am.” He grinned at her.

“So. You are Commander Armitage Hux of the Royal Navy?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Never let it be said that Hux didn’t respect superior officers, even if they worked for a different country.

“I’m so sorry about all this hubbub,” she said sitting back down and gesturing for them to do the same.

“You’ve probably done me a favour,” Hux said honestly. “I expect the Royal Navy would court marshal me if they found out I’d survived.”

“Yes, well I must admit I have an ulterior motive for keeping you hidden.” She looked serious. “I’m afraid this might be a very long explanation.”

“There are certainly a lot of questions I want answered,” Hux countered. How bizarre that a little over a day ago, he’d been eating curry at the top of a submarine funnel, generally enjoying life. Now he was knee deep into some kind of international intrigue, dead to all but three of his crew, and the submarine – his submarine – was languishing at the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Well, take it away.” Organa pulled over a few sheets of paper and a pen. She began noting something down.

“Who is Kylo Ren?”

He felt Dameron stiffen up beside him and General Organa; now looking at him again, wore a slightly pained expression.

“He’s my son.”

“I’m sorry?” His jaw had dropped, aghast, “Is that some kind of joke?”

“Not at all,” she said, twiddling her pen between thumb and forefinger. “He – well the short of it is that he was a Marine, and he fell in with some bad people.”

“Snoke?” He crossed his arms and tried to appear relaxed. The shock that Ren was the son of a General – that he had been a Marine, of all things - was still pulsing through him, but he didn’t want to lose face in front of these people. It was hard to imagine that the woman sitting in front of him had raised that creature. She looked nothing like Ren. Although, maybe there was something in the eyes that he could claim to be similar.

“Well, Snoke was certainly one of them.” She set down her pen.

“So Kylo Ren-“

“Ben,” she corrected, looking sadly down at her clasped hands.

“So Ben,” he corrected, “infiltrated my submarine with the help of Rear Admiral Snoke for … what purpose exactly?”

“Well, we don't know for sure, but we have a few working theories …”

“As do I. He as good as told me when he was taking the submarine down, he wanted it for Snoke.”

Both Organa and Dameron looked uneasy.

He continued, “Does this have anything to do with that ‘force power’ he possesses?”

It was clear that they hadn’t expected him to know this much. Hux felt slightly smug. 

“The Force,” Organa began slowly. She seemed to be running through an explanation in her head.

“I don’t want an explanation of what it is,” he said, closing his eyes, “I just want to know if it’s dangerous when paired with a nuclear submarine.”

“It very well might be.”

It lifted a weight off of Hux’s shoulders to hear that. He knew that the situation was bad, but somehow the responsibility for destroying the Vindicate seemed less damning if he knew that he had done it for a legitimate cause.

“And we think they may have captured others,” Organa continued, “You know how it is with Russia and China. Even if they had a submarine go missing, they would never tell the public about it.”

“That would explain the dots on the radar,” Hux murmured, more to himself than to the others.

“You saw unidentified vessels?”

“Six of them. Yesterday. When we went down. Three on either side, flanking us...” Just thinking back to it had made his throat close up with fear. Thinking back to the operation room in the murky-blue of the backup lights, the black figure rising from the floor-

“You okay, pal?” Dameron nudged him with an elbow. Hux opened his eyes, and nodded. He was massaging his throat.

“Fine,” he said hoarsely. Organa was furiously writing something on her paper.

“How did you know that Ben was on my boat?” Hux asked slowly, still rubbing at the phantom touch of fingers on his throat. “I’m guessing you knew if you got involved in the situation so quickly.” He was adept at piecing things together.

Organa smiled, “Snoke isn’t the only one with men on the inside.”

Hux’s fingers froze on his neck. “What the fuck,” he said quietly, “what the fuck gives you the right to spy on my vessel.” He stood. “If you knew that a nuclear submarine – a nuclear fucking weapon! – was in danger of a man like Snoke or Kylo, why would you let it happen?” He was shouting, could feel his face turning red.

“People died! And not only was it your son’s fault for being a nutjob, but it was also your fault for not notifying the Royal Navy!”

“Sit down,” Organa said coolly. “Sit down, be quiet and listen.”

Hux didn’t sit, but did stop himself from saying anything else.

“If we assumed that Snoke was a traitor, then it was reasonable for us to believe that there could be others in the Royal Navy, other corrupt officers.”

“So you decided to send in a boy to help us? Didn’t do a lot of good, did it?”

“I’m sorry, Commander Hux, but we knew that nothing could be done. We sent a man in to supply us with information about Ben and about Snoke, not to save you. We knew that any incidents couldn’t be prevented.” She said sadly.

He had calmed down, but felt that he needed to pace around the room to work off the rest of his anger. “Did your man make it out?”

“Yes, he reported to me earlier.”

“It was Finn, the chef. Am I correct?”

“I suppose the accent was a give away,” she shrugged. “Have you got any more burning questions for me?”

“I suppose ‘why are you protecting me’ would be a good one.” He sat down in his chair and leaned back.

“Well I wanted you for your information at first, but I also had a suspicion that you might in fact be an intelligent man – and we need intelligent people, Commander Hux. Desperately. Especially ones who know how to operate submarines.”

They held eye contact.

“I brought you here,” she continued, “mainly to scout you out. To figure if you were Snoke’s man. I’m glad to see that you aren’t.”

“What happens with me now?”

“That’s where I come in,” Dameron said, eager to rejoin the conversation. “Your guys that you got picked up with have sworn to say that you died with the submarine. So, you’re gonna be working with us.”

“Hold on-“

“-What Poe means to say is that we would greatly appreciate it if you helped us.” Organa corrected, flashing a fond look at the other man. “You’re in the know, now, and there’s few enough of us that it makes you a valuable person.”

It was insane, utterly insane, to agree to this. But to his country, his friends and his mother, he was dead. There was nothing for him now but this. It was a depressing thought, but he had to also admit that he was excited by this huge new world of freedom that had opened up to him. A life of stuffy tradition and self-control was all he had ever known. It felt good to leave it behind, if not a little frightening.

“What do you need me to do?”

“A job. I have a brother, Luke, and I need you to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in this one, but hopefully it was balanced out by some familiar faces.
> 
> 'The Plot of TFA, But With Submarines' will resume this time next week, so remember to tune in!
> 
> [This](http://static4.businessinsider.com/image/50d858526bb3f7c04800001f-975-515/2-443.jpg) is what the dock of Naval Station Norfolk looks like, complete with flat-tops.


End file.
